Sunday, October 04, 2015


The thermometer in the Zed Drei read 49°F leaving the range yesterday. The official high at the airport was fifty degrees, which was a record low daily high for that date, according to the weather dude this morning.

Wore my Asolo boots, what with most of the day being spent on the wrong side of the fifty degree line, standing in wet grass. As snuggly and comfortable as they are, it felt like I had boards strapped to my feet after a summer spent in Merrell barefoot shoes .

Another hundred...

Friday after work, I took another hundred rounds of Lucky Gunner's .45ACP ammo out on the range. Mindful of the fact that I'd be expected to step up the pace this weekend, I shot at least a couple magazines faster than the range speed limit, and I think the result is apparent.

This brings the total rounds fired to 1,400 since the weapon was last cleaned or lubricated, with three failures to go into battery (rounds #356, #1,085, #1,247), a failure to feed on round #513, a failure to feed a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #927, and a failure to eject a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #930. 600 rounds to go.

Saturday, October 03, 2015

Rain, rain, go away...

Someday I'm going to take an outdoor shooting class when it's not either brutally hot and humid and sunny, or cold and windy and rainy. But that day is not today.

Off to get schooled by Ernest Langdon.


Been chided (albeit indirectly) a bunch recently about my silly notions thinking that my untrained simple civilian self could possibly use a firearm in self defense.

Aside from the fact that I write a monthly column for a magazine that features stories of untrained citizens doing that very thing, I would like to think that I've taken a few precautions above and beyond that basic level to make sure I know which end the BB comes out...

Red days are ones where I was actually on a range busting caps...

I do this stuff for fun.
I realize all this means nothing to the average Joe Couchpotato and Suzy Sofaspud because I lack the shiny Corfam low-quarters that lend credence to gun-handling skills among the unwashed, but damn...

Friday, October 02, 2015

Dull Roar, So Far

I thought we'd be knee-deep in panicked crackers at work today, but fortunately things haven't gotten too het up yet. We'll see what happens on the Sunday political talking head shows. That's usually a pretty good barometer.

That'll Work. Not.

Samantha Power has taken to hashtag diplomacy again...

The Gun Salesman In Chief Is On My TV

QotD: Wilfully Obtuse Edition

"Meanwhile, the news drones on with photos, full name and half-informed speculation about the college shooter in Oregon, press and politicians blithely, blissfully unaware that the more attention they heap on pathetic losers who harm easy victims, the more of them there will be.  They're rewarding the behavior and continuing to fail to harden the target.  Yeah, keep on blaming me and people like me instead -- who'm I after all, who are we all but powerless worker bees in the vast, dull middle of the country who own guns and use them responsibly, not very photogenic, easy to blame, easy to push around."
Go and RTWT.

Once again... otherwise undistinguished loser demonstrates the easiest way in America to get your own Wikipedia page and your name on the president's lips.

And they're all over it on the TV, and this dillweed's actions are the topic of everyone's conversations, and they're interviewing every student who can claim they caught a glimpse of him and all I can keep yelling at the television screen is "Why didn't you shoot him?"

Seriously, this guy allegedly has time to huddle people together and hold dialogues on their religion? Sounds like there was ample time for any even moderately competent shooter to smoke check his ass. But no. We're yet again going to be bombarded with discussions about taking guns away from the wrong people instead of arming the right ones. There weren't four too many guns in that classroom, there was one too few.

Overheard in the Office...

RX: *sigh* "There's no such thing as a capital nine."

Thursday, October 01, 2015

Do something.


"That little guy? I wouldn't worry about that little guy."
I put another hundred rounds of Lucky Gunner's PMC .45ACP through the CCA gun after work yesterday.

This brings the total rounds fired to 1,300 since the weapon was last cleaned or lubricated, with three failures to go into battery (rounds #356, #1,085, #1,247), a failure to feed on round #513, a failure to feed a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #927, and a failure to eject a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #930. 700 rounds to go.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Linky Love

So the 1911 had gotten increasingly hard to open. It was to the point that I just about had to poke the muzzle against something to get it to unlock. I still hadn't taken it apart for fear of what I might find, my mind having conjured visions of various unlikely maladies: nasty burrs on the locking lugs or suchlike.

While I was up at Sand Burr Gun Ranch last Sunday, I asked Ray Saltzman, who was there to AI for Mas's MAG-40 class, if he wouldn't mind laying hands on it and making a diagnosis.

What the problem turned out to be was the link binding against the bottom of the frame. Now, bear in mind that the gun had gone back to Bob after the first thousand-ish rounds for a checkup and everything looked good. It had fired only about a thousand rounds since then before starting the 2k-round thing. This tight-unlocking problem had just cropped up in the last thousand rounds and had been getting worse.

I'm filing this one under "mysteries". All I can assume is that the link was so close to the frame that all it took was a tiny bit of link stretching and a bit of dirt in the gun to cause the two surfaces to come in contact.

At any rate, Ray spent a few minutes with a file and *bam* the problem vanished. He's a miracle worker. Take your guns to him to get fixed.

Since the gun still hadn't been lubed or cleaned, unless you count Ray wiping the feed ramp with a shop cloth, I figured we'll just put an asterisk next to the whole thing and go back to shootin' up Lucky Gunner's .45ACP ammo. And so yesterday morning found me at the range...

...where the gun disposed of a hundred rounds without a hiccup.

This brings the total rounds fired to 1,200 since the weapon was last cleaned or lubricated, with two failures to go into battery (rounds #356 and #1,085), a failure to feed on round #513, a failure to feed a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #927, and a failure to eject a round of Hornady Critical Duty +P on round #930. 800 rounds to go.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Gratuitous Gun Pr0n #135...

Seen at the range the other day: Race Glock with new horizontal C-More mount...

It moves the dot closer to the bore axis and is completely clear of the ejection port, since the body of the sight is swung outward.

What bias?

Does this story from RawStory (which has flown 'round the world and seems to be based on this link) sound anything like what I'm reading here?

Anybody reading this have contacts with the Houston po-po who know anything like the real scoop? Because if the wild-shooting Sheepdog Samaritan indeed is a figment of Cassidy Estrada and David Ferguson's imaginations, this needs to be corrected.

Automotif CXIII...

I was driving down College Avenue on the way to the range yesterday morning with the top down on the Bimmer. I had just crossed 42nd Street, with Diane Rehm clucking and tutting on the radio and me singing along with "Worst Part of Indianapolis", when I saw it...

 ...parked on the west side of College, just north of 39th Street.

I'm pretty sure that nobody has ever screeched to the side of the road in the middle of the 'hood, jumped out of their car, jogged half a block with DSLR in hand...

...and dodged across three lanes of traffic to shoot pictures of a minivan from every angle.

Because E-Type.

Monday, September 28, 2015

It's late September...

...and therefore it's time for me to belatedly realize that I haven't thrown an official VFTP endorsement for Kilted to Kick Cancer.

Today I threw some cash in the bucket for underdog and Hoosier homeboy, Team JBro. All you gotta do to do likewise is go to the donate page and select "Team JBro" as your fundraising team at checkout. Or, you know, pick whoever, but you should donate, because it's for a good cause.

Pedal & Pub II: Electric Boogaloo

Saturday morning, a group of three hardy cyclists (one of our number having punked out) departed the vicinity of Roseholme Cottage in search of the craft breweries of the Fountain Square neighborhood, just southeast of downtown Indianapolis.

Well, first we took a quick mile-and-a-half detour north for breakfast at Public Greens, laying a good foundation of protein and carbs for the day's exertions, then we turned south...

Our navigatoring was thrown off by the fact that the Circle City Classic parade route bisected downtown at the time. Then we took a detour for one of our number to pick up shaving supplies at Red's Classic Barber Shop downtown. I waited outside and took pictures of the trim on the building.

Our first stop of the day: Chilly Water Brewing. Your correspondent enjoyed an Indy High Bines Fresh Hop Ale.

From the Monon up at Broad Ripple Avenue to the Cultural Trail through Fountain Square, the bike paths of Indy were liberally festooned (get it?) with chalked Bernie Sanders graffiti and the occasional Bernie sticker on a light pole or utility box. Notable by its absence: Hillary graffiti.

The next stop on the trail was New Day Meadery in the heart of Fountain Square. Note more Bernie graffiti. A small glass of Washington's Folly cherry mead was quaffed there. The staff was discussing that newfound darling of the Progressive Left, Pope Francis. A Bernie/Francis '16 ticket would be a juggernaut. The GOP better thank its lucky stars he doesn't have a Hawaiian birth certificate.

The eponymous fountain in the square, which is actually a sort of triangle.

 Next stop: Fountain Square Brewery.

 Love the decor. And the Star Trek: Voyager video game.

I had a pint of their Hop For Teacher pale ale.

We turned northwards again toward home. Where the cultural trail overlapped the street in Fountain Square, the bike lanes were separated from the traffic lanes by low concrete walls and bollards and had their own traffic lights. It was a much nicer setup than the life-in-your-hands cycling experience of Broad Ripple Avenue proper.

Back downtown, across from the City-County Building, lies the City Market, a sort of ⅔rds-scale Quincy Market. On the upper deck was the Tomlinson Tap Room, featuring a rotating menu of Hoosier craft brews. It was there that we decided to remedy an oversight of our previous journey before the slog north commenced.

Back down the Cultural Trail a long block and then out Washington Street and under the interstate, and we were on the edge of the Holy Cross neighborhood, where we had hit Flat 12 last time but neglected to pay respects to Indiana City Brewing.

Indiana was two years ahead of the nation with Prohibition, but we got better.

Shootin' Buddy, having seen more #FeelTheBern graffiti.
Now came the long pull up the Monon, back through The Worst Part of Indianapolis ("Somebody got found shot in the head in their SUV just two blocks that way this morning!" I'd pipe up helpfully, as we'd pass certain areas featured on that morning's news) and to the leafier, quieter streets of South Broad Ripple...

...where the final stop of the day was for dinner at Bent Rail Brewing, the newest addition to the SoBro scene. So new, in fact, that they hadn't yet gotten their own brewing underway yet. The tanks are all set up, waiting on all the i's to be dotted and t's crossed.

They did, however, have guest taps, and a delicious charcuterie plate, which hit the spot nicely after twenty-three miles in the saddle.

Automotif CXII...

'72 Cadillac Eldorado convertible