Thursday, October 28, 2010

Buy A Truck, Get A Gun

Classic Chevrolet in Omaha is running a promotion where you get a free rifle or shotgun when you buy a truck. Cool, and oh so delightfully politically incorrect!

UPDATE: Heard the commercial again this morning, and it's the Classic Chevrolet dealership in Council Bluffs, not Omaha. The free gun offer is with any vehicle purchase, Chevrolets or Cadillacs.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Spending Your Money And Mine

No wonder India is delighted with Barack Obama's upcoming visit. The local economy will benefit to the tune of INR (Indian Rupees) 15 lakh per hour.

And how much is INR 15 lakh? The word lakh means 100,000. At current exchange rates, INR 15 lakh = INR 1,500,000 = US$33,608.93.


That doesn't include money spent on this side of the pond. When Marie Antoinette Michelle Obama went to Spain, the cost of using Air Force One/Two was listed at $11,351 per hour. We'll probably never know how big the bill is for the rest of the India entourage. Seems the Secret Service refuses to divulge the costs of providing security, lest anyone use them to estimate the level of protection.

And where did all this money come from? Your taxpayer dollars and mine.

Midterm elections are six days away. Time to start chipping away at the rot.

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Everybody's Good At Something

Despite all of his natural obnoxiousness, Milton The EvilPony™ is a trailer-loading champ.

Yes, he uses cute as a weapon.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Fear Of The Dark

The same Overlords Authorities who tell us we should aid and abet cooperate with criminals also hand out plenty of other advice on how to supposedly keep safe. They tell us to clear trees and bushes away from our houses and use plenty of outside lights to "discourage" break-ins.

Those measures, like rape whistles, assume there will be somebody else around to observe the crime-in-progress and call for an appropriate response. The obedient drones who swallow everything their betters hand out have properties that look like a Wal-Mart parking lot at night.

But what if you live out in the country where nocturnal passers-by are few and far between, or your so-called "neighbors" would be more likely to celebrate than call for help if you were murdered in your sleep? Then, removing obstacles and having lots of outside lighting just makes the bad guys' jobs easier.

Anyone coming on my place at night will be unable to negotiate the woods without making noise, and they'll need to use their own lights. Both those things will make them conspicuous. My dogs alert on noises in the underbrush, and they notice moving lights in strange places. Their job is to sound the alarm, and my job is to take it from there.

Only trusted friends are allowed on my property, and then only by prior arrangement. Nobody who knows me will ever show up at my door unannounced, or try to enter my home on their own. Yes, I have boundary issues, but after the whole stalked-harassed-and-raped thing, I think I earned them.

So I have a high degree of confidence that anyone attempting unannounced entry into my house at 2:00 am is a legitimate threat. I'm not about to make it easier for that attempted entry to be without warning.

I live thirty miles south of the nearest metropolitan area, and the orange glow of their sodium vapor street lights fills my northern sky. Don't even think of doing any amateur astronomy out here. The vacant house across the road has a mercury vapor yard light that I can see clearly from my bed when the trees are leafless. I close my drapes, but it's still disturbing.

Trying to turn night into day is not going to keep me safe. I know better than to trust my safety to casual observers. I'm not afraid of the dark.

The dark is afraid of me.

What "Assume" Spells

I got a telemarketing call the other day that was all my one-nerve-left mood needed. Normally I try to not be too hard on people doing a rotten job for peanuts, but this telemarketer committed the unforgivable sin that earned her my full wrath.

She addressed me as "Missus."

How dare you assume I'm married?

Fools make assumptions all the time. Their little minds are made up, and they assume everyone fits into their little boxes. Here's a wake-up call to all the fools out there, a significant number of whom occupy positions of public trust:
  • How dare you assume I'm a christian because I belong to the NRA.
  • How dare you assume I'm a redneck because I own guns.
  • How dare you assume I worship some christian devil because I'm a Witch.
  • How dare you assume I'm a liberal Demonrat Democrat because I'm a woman.
  • How dare you assume I have chronic health problems and take multiple prescription drugs because I'm on the high side of forty.
  • How dare you assume I'm looking for an assisted living center for the same reason.
  • How dare you assume I'm incapable of safely operating a motor vehicle for the same reason again. Two years ago when my driver's license was up for renewal, the DMV sent me a pamphlet asking if it was time for me to hang up the car keys. Could I turn my head, read and understand road signs, sit for more than ten minutes, did I get lost in familiar places? Fercryinoutloud, people, I'm middle-aged, not enfeebled and afflicted with dementia.
  • How dare you assume I'm mentally defective because I'm not just like you.
The only thing the telemarketer could have done to make it worse would have been to address me as "Missus" and then ask to speak to the head of the household. The ears of last telemarketer to do that are probably still ringing. Yes, I'm on the "do not call" list, but that doesn't save me from companies with which I already have a "business relationship." I'm already this close to terminating my business relationship with this company, and told their minion if they ever bothered me again I would do so immediately.

Junk mail and other mass-marketing vehicles can tell you a lot about what those who like to assume think about you. Their value to me is in validating just how wrong they are and making it easier to ensure I never, ever in any way contribute to their continued success.

Worst Phishing Attempt EVER

(Click to enlarge)

Either that, or the feds are hiring lolcats.

Come to think of it, that would explain a lot . . .

Sunday, October 17, 2010

People Are Getting Dumber

Overheard at the laundromat today:

Customer: "What setting do I use to wash the clothes in hot water?"

Attendant: "Uh . . . Hot."
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Sunday, October 10, 2010

Mr. Wilson Goes To The Doctor

My custom Wilson Combat Elite Professional is on its way back to Berryville for repairs.

When it stopped locking open on an empty mag, my first thought was pilot error. I had several respected friends including two professional gunsmiths look it over, and they all agreed wear on the slide stop and slide were the true culprits. So I called Wilson and made the appointment.

What I found interesting was everyone agreed they'd never seen anyone with a custom Wilson actually shoot it as much as I do. I can't imagine having a gun built expressly to your shooting and carrying preferences and then not shooting and carrying it. There is plenty of wear visible on the gun, outside and inside. Honorable scars, just as with working dogs and horses. I hope they'll consider them honorable scars.

Until it comes back, I'm carrying my Government-size Wilson CQB. It's a major pain to switch to a longer barrel, especially when you carry appendix IWB.

I'm also sufficiently bummed that I'm considering picking up a Dan Wesson VBOB with the black "duty finish" as a spare carry gun. I seriously considered their CBOB before I ordered my bobtail Commander from Wilson, but the CBOB only came in stainless. I have to do too many stealth transitions between holster and lockbox to ever want to carry anything other than an all-black gun. Nothing has driven home the value of a bobtail frame for carry like having to go back to a standard frame.

As long as it's in the shop, I'm having the rear sight switched out for one of these. I've wanted a rear sight with a cocking ledge for easier one-handed gun manipulations for a long time.

Oh well, they told me it should be back in a week. It's gonna be a looooong week.