Miscellaneous, Randomness and Other Stuff

In no particular order, I thought I would open the tap a little bit and relieve some pressure in the blog material accumulator before things get too jumbled up.

In the Frankensteinian "Fire Bad!" category, Number One Follower had an unfortunate incident in his home shop a while back. To add insult to misfortune, it was were the bulk of his firearms and associated accessories were stored. Neither NOF nor his wife were home at the time. Fortunately, a neighbor called NOF and the fire department before things got too out of control. That also triggered calls from NOF to the FD that there was ammunition and such in the shop. I also got a call to come assist with removing items as necessary. The fire department investigator said the fire was accidental. Based on the area of origin, the most likely culprit is faulty/damaged wiring. The good news is that NOF has pretty good insurance and should come out of the deal in pretty good shape overall. 

Formerly a plastic shelving unit full of ammunition. 

Ruger Precision Rifle with heat damaged barrel

The Queen and I decided it was high time for some one on one quality time not too long ago. We love our daughter, M&M dearly and will and have taken her pretty much everywhere with us. So, it was not much of a surprise to either of us that it had been more than 7 years since the two of us had taken  solo getaway. Plans were hatched, and we hoped in The Queen's chariot for a long weekend jaunt down to Corpus Christi. I should make a brief side note here. Anytime The Queen is in the car, her eyes are invariably drawn to animals in distress. This trip was no different. I was in the passenger seat, head down, working (being able to work from literally anywhere there is a half way decent cellular data connection has huge advantages for me) when I hear a gasp from the driver's seat.

I asked what the function was, and The Queen informed me that she saw a cat in the center median of the highway. Said highway being 1-35 in Kyle, TX just south of Austin which is six lanes of NAFTA's main thoroughfare in the US. So, I told The Queen to flip a U-turn at the next exit and go back in search of the feline. The Queen was conflicted for a moment between her concern for the cat and her desire not to ruin our trip. I reminded her that, if we did not make efforts to resolve the mystery of said feline's fate, The Queen would spend the rest of the trip worrying about it.

After a failed first attempt to relocate the fur ball, we were able reacquire the ungrateful fur turd cat on The Queen's pet radar with the second north/south U-turn circuit. Not wanting to spook the cat into running into the highway and also being fairly certain that the center median was not wide enough for the chariot, I had The Queen Park in the outside shoulder. After assessing the chances of making it across and back more or less in one piece, I found a narrow window in traffic through which I could reasonably shamble across three lanes of interstate without getting flattened by a semi or causing a soccer mom to panic stop a mini van.

Then, I began the process of trying to convince Kitty McDeathwish that I was a really nice guy who was not with the government but "here to help.(TM)" After a couple of tentative crouching duck walks and sidling shuffles, I was able to get within sniffing distance of the cat. He/she/it? (we were never on first gender basis with each other) gave me a cursory sniff before allowing me to touch its head briefly before retreating back out of arms length. After several more tense moments of getting back into arm's length and watching traffic (you'd be surprised at how many people can't stay between the lines [I'm looking at you white Ford SUV...you're lucky I didn't slash your tires]), I spotted a window in the traffic that offered a reasonable chance of success, grabbed a double handful of fur, and commenced to hoofing it back across the highway. The cat was pissed off thoroughly unamused and expressed its displeasure by trying to eviscerate my arm. Fortunately,  my wind breaker took most of the  abuse. Once we reached the grassy shoulder, I engaged the catapult and released it in the tall grass of the shoulder fully realizing we weren't done with the rescue yet.

Your Truly, trying to garner the trust of a feral cat and questioning my life choices.

After assuring myself that I was not bleeding to death and retrieving a bottle of water and a wet wipe from the car to wash the cat spit off my arm and out of the puncture wounds, I returned to my efforts to complete the rescue of the bag full of razor blades just in time to receive the assistance of one of Kyle PD's finest. We had to herd the cat (literally) to a spot where we could grab it. I got a grip on it just before it tried to imitate a speed bump in the highway again. This time, the cat got up under the sleeve of my jacket and did it's level best to chew my arm off. I handed the ugly, pointy thing off to the officer who, wisely, was wearing mechanics gloves and a bullet proof vest. He escorted the cat across the service road into the woods on the other side where it was released into the relative safety of the country side.

No good deed goes unpunished.

After thanking the officer and stopping the bleeding (again), we made tracks to the nearest Starbucks for a more thorough clean up with hot water in the restroom. I'll be darned if those puncture wounds didn't bleed most of the rest of the day. They were pretty tender for the next several days too. As of this writing a couple of weeks post rescue, I still have one puncture that is still scabbed over and serving as a reminder to wear armor and bring tazers when dealing with stray cats.

M&M continues to grow like a weed. She just finished the second grade, she got a gold medal at her piano theory test, auditioned for the national piano guild and is generally continuing to be her amazing self.

Tinkle and Taco keeping a watchful eye on the pups. 

The puppies are also growing like weeds. They are inseparable. Literally. Take one away, and they both whine and cry like they've been beaten. This, of course, creates cute and humorous moments.

Dawww...the cute version of spooning

The funny version of  spooning

Oma's Alzheimer's continues its inevitable march down the drain. While generally happy when she is riding in the car or watching TV with Opa, she has developed a stubborn and belligerent streak when asked/told to do something she does not want to do...which is pretty much anything other than ride in a car or watch TV. She has also rediscovered cursing; and, while not ideal, we are thankful she latched on to "Sh*t!" instead of the universal adjective.

Lastly, we were sad to learn this past week of the passing of a long term church acquaintance of ours. I have known/been acquainted with this family for over 20 years now, and my wife has known them even longer. The family is no one special in terms of wealth or fame. They are just good people. When The Queen was going through her mystery illness and I was stuck commuting between Dallas and Houston because of work, I would call the husband semi-regularly just to have someone to talk to on the long drive. They had six kids who are all grown now.  We found out a while back that the wife had been diagnosed with cancer; and, more recently, we found out that she was bedridden and on hospice care. We took a "day off" from work to drive out to their place to visit (they live a couple hours east of us), catch up and generally give encouragement in whatever way we could.

During our visit, the wife said something that really struck me as profound. She was talking about how her bedridden state has left her totally at the mercy of others for her care most of which falls to her husband. The thing that struck me was when she said this was not what she had in mind when they said their marriage vows. She said this was not what she wanted for her husband to have to care for her and clean her and watch her in that state.

That got me to thinking. Most people say their marriage vows without ever really thinking about what they are promising or giving even a moment's thought about what the future may hold. I know I didn't really comprehend it at the time either. Everyone focuses on the "to have and to hold" and forgets about the "in sickness and in health" or "for richer or for poorer" parts of the vows. She told us that she had to learn the hard way what those vows really meant. The Queen and I understood what she meant.

She passed away peacefully surrounded by her family. I know her husband would trade anything to have her back with him and healthy, but they fulfilled their marriage vows in every sense of the word. That's increasingly rare these days. I count myself blessed to have my Queen by my side as we continue fulfilling our vows.

Please Spare a Kind Thought or a Prayer

Yesterday, Brigid of Home On The Range fame posted the words I have been dreading reading for sometime now. Her 98 year old father is in declining health.

I have never met Brigid in person though not for lack of trying (I had to miss a planned get together while on business in Chicago due to a massive migraine), but I have followed her in the blogosphere since my early days poking around this corner of the internet. She is one of the best of us. She has shared much; both pain and joy. She creates magic in prose.

Please spare a moment to whisper a kind word or a simple prayer for the peaceful passing of a man who means a lot to one of our tribe and to comfort those he leaves behind.

If you're of a mind to do so, go read I Thessalonians 4:13-18. It's the verse I always turn to in times such as these. It's God's Promise that no loss is permanent. A time of resurrection and reunion awaits us all. 

Silliness

A gift from number one follower and all around best bud. He knows me too well. I don't care if 9mm is cheaper than or just as effective as .45ACP. I like .45s because I like making bigger holes in things.

The Queen spotted this at the local Walmart the other day. Yes, it is exactly what it says it is. Yes, it's juvenile and immature. I must have it.

Kill Me Now...

So, yesterday was my second official Father's Day. It was a day filled with hard labor in the hot sun, and I am paying the price today.

The Queen had decreed that we should go ahead and get the antiques moved to storage. As a result, I woke up yesterday and picked up a 16 foot rental truck. Best friend Number One Follower arrived a little after 10:00 AM followed shortly thereafter by the youngest nephew Baby Huey (that's what his mother calls him...so, I'm going with that).

What followed was several hours of championship level 3D Tetris in high 90 degree temps involving old wood and glass including a piano, first into the truck and later into an elevator to get to the third floor storage unit. The saving grace of the day was a steady, cool breeze that felt great on sweat soaked shirts.

After 9 hours in the sun, I'm completely soaked, smell like a goat and have no critical reasoning skills left.

The end result was this:

10' x 15' storage unit with space left for boxes. The Queen vetoed my bonfire suggestion

The Queen promises me that she will locate someone to appraise this clusterstuff as a prelude to an estate sale. We just don't have time for it right now.

By the time we got done, I was overdue returning the truck, I was literally and figuratively baked, I was having trouble thinking and moving was an ordeal. As I asked NOF, when the Hell did I become an old fart? Fortunately, NOF married himself up in life. His new bride K3 was very thoughtful and brought a couple of rotisserie chickens, veggies, taters and fruit relieving me from the need to figure out what to do about dinner. After dinner, I filled the tub and soaked for a good solid hour following which I stretched out on the bed and started watching Longmire on Netflix.

Waking up this morning was an exercise in torture. Moving is optional at this point.

The good news is that The Queen has promised to make up Father's Day for me after the move is done. I thanked her profusely and told her that wasn't necessary, but she is insistent. I've learned not to argue with her about it.

Congratulations

I'd like to take a moment to offer (again) my sincerest congratulations to my best male friend, known here as Number One Follower, and his new bride on their recent marriage. I have known NOF almost 24 years now (over half my life...yes, we are getting old), and I have known his lovely bride, henceforth known as K3 (her initials are KKK now and K3 sounds better than The Klanswoman), for more than half of that time.

NOF and I have known each other through at least a dozen moves (usually involving pouring rain or 100+ degree heat and including the time his ex-girlfriend/live-in brandished a gun at him and "his thug friends" while we moved his crap out of the house). We were friends through his first marriage to the raging alcoholic who I affectionately call his practice wife that both his dad and I warned him not to marry (though he claims differently). He was the best man at my wedding to The Queen. He was the one trying to tell me a little time with M&M was better than no time with her (something I REALLY didn't want to hear at the time) during some of the darkest times when it looked as if we weren't going to be allowed to keep her. We've been there for each other through family joys and losses. Needless to say, we know each other like brothers.

K3 is a sweet lady who has patiently waited for NOF to get his head screwed on straight enough to figure out that they were good for each other, and I was only too happy to stand up for them at the wedding and give the toast at the reception.

They called their wedding "The Inevitable". As I said during the toast, I wish them "The Expected": Long Life Together, Much Love and Lots of Laughter.

Congratulations my friends.

I Have The BEST Readers

No, really. It's true. I may not have a legion of followers do or get millions of pageviews like some bloggers; but, what I lack in volume, I make up for in quality.

Case in point. You guys and gals have been phenomenally supportive of The Queen, M&M and I throughout the whole fostering/adopting process. Your words of encouragement really meant a lot to me. Some people, though, were not satisfied with mere words.

First, there was the cute tote bag embroidered with M&M's name sent by one of my former high school classmates and blog readers, Tena (who is also a blogger...who really needs to put up some fresh content...just sayin'). I would show you a picture, but I don't have one that's edited to block out M&M's name. Trust me. It's awesome, and we get a lot of use out of it.

Then, yesterday, I arrived home to find a box on my doorstep. It was light weight, and it wasn't ticking. So, we were off to a good start. The return address indicated it was from Candance at Crazy Texas Mommy. Candance had given me the heads up that it was on its way. So, I sort of knew what to expect when I opened the box.

Okay. Not really. Candance DOES have a reputation for craziness.

What I found in the box was this (pardon the crappy cell phone photography...lack of sleep):

That there is two, count them, two hand made, crocheted purses for little Miss M&M. Let's untie that bundle and get a better look (more or less...crappy cell phones and lack of sleep...).

I'm telling you, these are the cutest little purses EVER!!! I promise to get photos of M&M using them as soon as possible.

To Tena and Candance, thank you so much. It's very sweet of you both to do that for my little girl.

When Lack of Sleep and Warped Humor Collide...

I really should get to bed earlier...

At Brigid's Request

Many of you who read here also read Brigid's blog, Home on the Range. If you don't, you have my sincerest condolences for missing out on some seriously good writing, drool worthy recipes and a host of other goodness including some great photography. If you do, you know that her brother is battling cancer and is facing a bone marrow transplant.

Brigid made a simple request a few weeks ago now that we spread the word regarding blood donation. With M&M's adoption followed by the craziness of the week that followed with illness o' plenty, I am just now getting around to fulfilling her request.

If you are not pathologically afraid of needles as I am (thanks to a bad experience at age 6 or so), please consider donating blood. I've given blood exactly two times as an adult and once in high school. Someone needs to pick up the slack for me.

Guest Blogger: Captain Tightpants

Shepherd K here. This evening, I have an extra special treat for you all: my first ever guest poster. Captain Tightpants, from the blog I Aim To Misbehave, was quite engaged in the comments on my last post and was concerned that he was hijacking the comments section with his thoughts on a particular caliber of ammunition. I suggested that he apply himself to the task of fleshing out his thoughts into a full blown guest post, and here are the results. For those not acquainted with the good Captain, he is former military (Navy if I recall correctly), current police officer (bomb squad...if you see this man running, please try to keep up), ardent Firefly fan and generally a nice guy. Enjoy.

The purpose of this is to simply explain why I chose to invest money, time & effort in a .300 Blackout rifle - not necessarily to convert you to my way of thinking. While I find that this round is going to meet a number of my needs & wants, your individual mileage and desires may vary. Also, I'm doing this as a short-barrel rifle (with a tax stamp transfer) and picking up a suppressor down the road... both of which are doable in my location without too much drama.

As any gun person knows, over the past 30-some years a number of "newest, bestest" cartridges have been introduced, all of which swore to be the next great thing. Some have had success (.40 S&W for one), some have achieved niche followings (10mm, 6.8 SPC), and some have faded into obscurity (.45 GAP). One of the latest rounds to burst onto the scene with some acclaim has been the .300 Blackout (.300 BLK) round, developed by AAC and more or less based on the .300 Whisper cartridge. Of important note with the round is that the company took the approach of getting it SAAMI spec'd & have gone out of their way to let others load it, market it etc. - which has been one reason for the explosive growth of this cartridge. A great number of manufacturers from the mid-range to the high end have jumped on the bandwagon with rifles, barrels, and ammunition growing by the day.

The .300 Blackout round (7.62x35mm) is designed with a number of considerations in mind:

- Function with minimal changes from a standard M4-style or similar 5.56x45mm platform. All you need to change is the barrel. It uses the same magazines, bolt, carrier, etc. for any of these weapons. This is a significant savings in materials if you're changing a weapon, and it greatly increases the availability of spare parts, weapon enhancements and such. Additionally, these magazines are capable of holding the same capacity as they do in 5.56x45, as opposed to reduced capacity in such rounds as the 6.8mm SPC.

- To provide a round which more or less matches the ballistic capabilities of a 7.62x39 (AK-47) style round for enhanced terminal ballistics, barrier penetration and such. While I won't get into a caliber-wars debate, it's hard to argue that a .30 caliber hole will be more effective in ensanguination than a .22 caliber hole. There are several M4 style rifles chambered in the 7.62x39 round it is true, but they require proprietary magazines, bolts and such - and have a poor history in terms of reliability to date.

- To provide a subsonic round with optimal sound and flash suppression when suppressed. For comparison, the .300 Blackout with 220 grain subsonic ammunition is quieter than an MP5SD, while firing a round almost twice the grain weight and 129% more muzzle energy. It also holds this energy to a greater range.

I can safely say that AAC met these goals. Now, let's discuss some of the other good points of the round.

- Reloading is inexpensive compared to the alternative rounds - in fact, you can take standard .223/5.56x45 brass and with minimal effort reload it as .300 Blackout. Much cheaper than having to buy specialized brass.

- If you're looking at things from a financial or a prepper standpoint - think about the cost savings. The only thing different is the barrel. Everything else from front to back is the same as an M4, ammo is reloadable as above etc. As opposed to having to find off-brand stuff or specialized tools & parts this is a big thing for me. Also, due to the lower pressures, internal ballistics and dynamics of this round barrel life and wear on the weapon is greatly reduced.

- Effective range and terminal ballistics are in line with what I need. Is this a 500-800 yard sniping weapon? No - but I don't expect that out of my 5.56 either. On the other hand, between point blank and 300 yards I can expect all the accuracy and performance I want out of a duty-type rifle, if not more. If I need to go out further that's what my bolt gun .308 is for...

- I like the thought that I am getting much better terminal ballistics out of an M4 platform, still in a low-recoiling round. Furthermore, in terms of hunting, the vast majority of places won't let you use .223 for things like deer - but the .300 is a perfectly good round. Again, now we've broadened our applications from one platform. Furthermore, the ballistics were specifically developed around the shorter barrels. 5.56 out of the Stoner-designed platform was originally built to work off a 20-inch barrel, and as you lose barrel length you have corresponding issues in loss of power, decreased reliability, and increased wear on the weapon. .300 BLK was spec'd for SAAMI out of a 16 inch barrel; out of a 10.5 inch barrel it has about 23% more muzzle energy than an M855 5.56 projectile does out of a 16 inch.

- In terms of the suppressor side of things. Instead of thinking "I need a suppressed weapon, so I'm stuck with a 9mm instead of a full-sized rifle," now I can do both with one platform.

As for the most common comparison round - the 6.8mm SPC round (which is a perfectly viable round and I'm not badmouthing it) - here are the issues.

- 6.8mm SPC requires a different bolt, magazine etc. - which beats the advantages I discussed already for the .300BLK.  Plus it has a reduced magazine capacity. Buying 13 dollar P-mags vs. $25+ specialized mags is a big price difference. And I can use the same parts, magazines etc. in both my rifles now as opposed to just one.

- Ammo cost is significantly different. Going with the low-end practice stuff (Remington UMC) 6.8mm SPC at Midway, the 6.8mm SPC is 16.99 a box, while the .300 BLK is 11.99 a box. That's a third less per box - it adds up, and that's also not even counting the advantages of being able to reload 5.56 brass if needed.

- 6.8 doesn't have the breadth of application in terms of subsonic to supersonic rounds and performance.

- For whatever reason, the various manufacturers haven't jumped on 6.8 even after a number of years like they have the .300 BLK. In fact, a few large companies this year stated they were dropping 6.8 from their product line due to it not being a good financial return right now. Personally I believe this stems from the fact that the Freedom Group (who owns both AAC and Remington) has put their horse behind the .300 BLK cartridge, and is minimizing the corporate support for the 6.8.

- In 6.8 SPC's defense - it is generally a flatter shooting round, and does have a slightly longer effective range. However this really doesn't come into play where I work and live - it's only an issue beyond 300-400 yards or so, and there are very few places here I even have that kind of visibility, much less a clean shot at something.

So - what are the downsides to .300 BLK right now? The two big ones I can think of are:

- At the moment it doesn't have quite the breadth of available rounds that something like the .223 or .308 has, so choices in hunting and defensive loads aren't as broad. I expect this to continue to improve throughout the next year.

- Again, due to the relative newness of the round, there is a lack of documented terminal ballistic effectiveness reports. As above, time will tell on this.

And for the record on what I'm acquiring? A 10.5 inch barrel Noveske rifle and an AAC suppressor to go with it. Unfortunately the paperwork and ATF involvement means I won't actually get hands on with it for about six months...

WARHAMMER!!!!

Men of evil intent, be on notice and forewarned. At long last, Daddy Hawk has a WARHAMMER! worthy of the name with which to protect and defend the honor and virtue of The Queen and M&M. After much searching, fondling, drooling, coon fingering and general moon gazing at gun shows, gun stores and on the internet, I came to an unlikely decision given my previous ramblings on the subject. Let us start with a teaser....

Now, long time readers will immediately take notice and say, "Shepherd, what gives? You never mentioned SIGs as being on the wish list before." True, true. But, I never said they weren't either. Times change, additional information is gathered and the cream, as they say, rises to the top.

I can also hear some of you thinking loudly saying, "But, wait a minute Shep, I thought you wanted a 1911 so desperately you were channeling the spirit of John Moses Browning with a Ouiji board."

(pardon the view...Blogger won't let me rotate it)

Quite possibly true, but did I mention that SIG makes 1911s?

What you are looking at is the 1911 TACPAC from SIG. I will let SIG give you all the details your heart could desire. Basically, you get a full size, railed 1911 with a laser and standard three dot sights, kydex OWB retention holster with mag pouch, 2 magazines, a mag loader and a nice hard shell case.

Some of you are nodding your heads and saying "Uh huh, but, but...." Let me just say this about that...

(16 rounds at 7 yards 1 flyer)

I looked at everything priced at or below $1000. Really. I checked out Citadels. I looked at Rock Island Armory. A lot of people rave about them. They are solid and well put together, but I would have had to immediately sink money into it to get it to where I wanted it to be. I lusted after the Ruger SR1911 from afar on the internets; however, the fact that I have yet to see one in person anywhere put it out of reach despite it's attractive price and Ruger's reputation. I suspect they are nothing more than a viscious rumor spread by gun rags to increase magazine sales. I looked at Taurus...and kept right on looking. I looked at Colts, Kimbers and Springfield Armory. I had one grizzled old gunsmith tell me in no uncertain terms that Kimbers were crap and that they had never worked. My experience has been different, but there is enough smoke on the net to suggest some truth to his opinions. He also stated that he carried Colts and Springers in his store because they worked and had been making 1911s since 1911. Perhaps. The Colt I wanted was no where to be found, and I didn't like the build quality or feel of the Springer Loadeds I tried. Paras, STIs (keep in mind that there only 1 STI under a grand) and Remington all got brief consideration. Okay. STI got more than brief consideration. I looked longingly at the Smith & Wesson E Series (after all, it has wood grips engraved with my last initial) right up until I fondled one at the fun show today. Something about it was just not right.

Then we have SIGs. I had seen them on the web...and ignored them. Right up until a trip to a local range and gun store last week. When I mentioned my desire for a full size 1911, the gun counter dude pulled the SIG out of the case and said "Listen" as he racked the slide. 

The SIG said, "shhCHING". It made a beautiful ringing sound kinda like a nice crystal wine glass. That got my attention.

I held it lovingly in my hands, and it felt every bit like I dreamed a 1911 should feel. It pointed right where I wanted it. The front and back strap checkering was perfect. The build quality was dead on perfect. You just new it would hit bullseyes right out of the box. The store wanted too much friggin' money for the one that had in stock. To be fair, I think that one was the GSR version which had the magwell extension main spring housing and tritium night sights. It sure wasn't worth almost $400 more than what I paid for the complete package today at the fun show. 

Number One follower, his roomie and her boyfriend went to the gun range after the fun show to give it a whirl. Out of the box, it shot bullseyes just as I thought. It ate 120 rounds of 230 grain full metal jacket ammo from four different manufacturers without a single malfuntion. NOF's roomie (who is a new shooter) ran a couple of mags through and said she liked it better than NOF's Glock 19. That should say something.

So, to recap. One item of the wish list. One dream gun obtained. Daddy Hawk happy...for now.

Pet Peves

I will be the first to admit that I can be a bit picky from time to time about certain things....like how the laundry gets folded or how the dishwasher gets loaded for instance. The Queen says I'm "anal retentive" about such things. I always remind her that I poo quite well thank you very much. I just tend to be rather set in my ways when it comes to menial tasks, and it's not like I try to force others to do things my way. If you want to help out (as my mother in law is want to do from time to time) and fold the laundry the way you've done it your entire life, I will gladly thank you for your efforts, take the stack into the bedroom and quietly refold it my way.

Ditto for loading the dishwasher. If you happen to prefer a haphazard approach, fine. I will simply come in and adjust things to my liking when you aren't around. Simple. No hard feelings. Everyone is happy. 

There are, however, some things that I cannot overlook. Take, for instance, refrigerator manners. Here again, I admit to being a tad set in my ways. The Queen and I have a pretty basic larder that I replenish with regular shopping trips. Everything is fine and dandy as long as we don't get too many unannounced and unplanned for visitors. I know what's in the fridge because I stocked it, I cook the meals, and I stash the leftovers. If I'm in the mood for a snack, I know more or less how much of what I've got to work with.

Until the aforementioned unannounced and unplanned for visitors arrive. Such as my oldest niece. She is a wonderfully sweet girl (who needs to post something to her blog) who is in her first year of college after graduating from high school a year early. She also is sharing an apartment with a friend. An apartment where she gets bored from time to time. So, she comes to visit Auntie Queen and Uncle Shepherd. For several days at a time. Which is fine in and of itself.

Now, before I go much further, I really must disclaim any ill will towards niece Juju as The Queen and I do enjoy her company. I just have a bone to pick with her fridge manners. I've already addressed this with her directly. So, rest assured, I'm not talking about her behind her back. 

You see, my niece - who freely admits to being a moocher, is a grazer. She will open up the fridge and spot a likely item for noshing and go to town. This is not the problem. I don't mind her eating a half pound of deli roast beef at a sitting or the left over spaghetti.

I mind her putting one, solitary, forlorn slice of roast beast back into the fridge all by its lonesome  (which she adamantly denies and blames on my father in law) or just a tablespoon sized dollop of spaghetti sauce (which she freely admits to). 

Seriously. What am I supposed to do with a half shredded piece of deli meat or a spoon full of cold spaghetti sauce? The LAST half shredded piece of deli meat and dollop of sauce I might add. It's not enough for a sandwich or a saucer sized portion of noodles much less a plate full. They won't even dull a mouse's appetite as a snack. The dogs would love to have a bit of beast or spot of sauce, but I can't give one a taste and not the others. Splitting it all up into thirds, and they just look at me like "Where's the rest, dad?"

Juju and I have had a little set to about this a couple of times now. She will take what she wants from the fridge (which is fine) and put back the rest...no matter how minuscule that amount may be (not fine). I've asked why she just couldn't eat that last little bit of whatever. Her responses so far: "I was full" and "I didn't want it." 

"I was full" I can understand; but, trust me on this, that last little speck of roast isn't going to make you explode like the fat man from Monty Python. However, "I didn't want it" is not something I can really grasp. You mean to tell me that the other 3/4 of a pound was scrumptious, but that last .00001 of an ounce just turns your stomach? I don't get it. 

Anyway, I told you that to tell you this. I have to admit that Juju has been outdone.

We had a guest over the weekend who traveled in from Houston to spend the weekend for the purposes of wooing a lady friend. Or at the very least spending time with said lady friend as he's not really sure he wants to pursue the wooing any further. It's all very confusing. He's a really nice guy, and The Queen and I enjoy his company when he's here (since we don't get to Houston much anymore).

So, this morning, our friend got up early to hit the road back to H town. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast since he's been here more than once and knows where everything is. That, and it was before my wake up time to make him breakfast. So, when I do make it into the kitchen this morning to make myself a bowl of cereal, I find this:

...in the fridge. There might be a half an ounce worth of milk in the bottom of that bottle. 

I will give our friend the benefit of the doubt here and assume that he didn't know where we wanted empties put, whether we recycle or not, that sort of thing; but, for the love of all that is holy, just finish off that last drop of milk. 

Range Report

I’ve been needing some recoil therapy for a while now. Apparently, Number One Follower (“NOF” from this point forward) has been needing some too. We’ve been trying to put a range trip together for a couple of weeks now, but one thing or another kept getting in the way. First, it was some unexpected expenses that ate into the range budget on our first scheduled attempt a while back. Then it was an ice and snow storm that struck most of the freaking country this past week including the Dallas Fort Worth area late Monday/early Tuesday that whacked our plan to get together on Wednesday after work.

To anyone out there in my readership who is a global warming fanatic, I have two words for you:

BITE ME!!!!

Anyway, NOF and I postponed the plan until today when the forecast indicated we should have some above freezing temps and the ability to actually drive on the roads without the potential for sacrificing paid for cars on the altar of stupid drivers.

First up on the agenda, lunch. We met at the greatest Tex Mex restaurant on the planet: Chuy’s in the Arlington Highlands (other locations conveniently located around the state to serve you). We both had the Elvis Presley Memorial Combo which is three enchiladas (1 each of beef, chicken and cheese), a beef taco, queso dipped tostadas, beans and rice. If you have never eaten at a Chuy’s, you must come to Texas to partake of this culinary goodness. And be sure to order the Creamy Jalapeno Ranch to go with your chips and salsa. It’s like crack for adults.

After we were fat, dumb and happy, it was off to an indoor gun range in East Fort Worth. I brought The Queen’s Marlin Model 60 .22 rifle and the previously pictured Ruger MkIII .22 pistol. I also took the opportunity to rent a Springfield Armory Mil Spec 1911. In the comments on my post about my desire for a 1911, a few of you recommended the SA. I thought I’d give it a whirl and see what all the hubbub was about. 

I’ll get to my thoughts about the SA Mil Spec in a minute.

First, a couple of photos of targets (yes, GunDiva, I changed targets every 10 to 25 rounds just for you). For reference, the black dots on the 3 x 5 note cards are just a smidge under 1 inch in diameter.

The top target is self explanatory. The bottom target is 10 rounds through the Ruger MkIII at 3 yards. 

Now, back to my thoughts about the SA. In short, I didn’t like it. To be fair to SA, it may not have been their fault as this was a rental gun.

The rental gun had some issues (which I reported to range management) not the least of which was that it had  not been cleaned in a while…maybe ever. The slide stop did not want to hold the slide back; and, when it did lock back, it had a tendency to drop the slide forward unannounced and without assistance. Also, whether by design or malfunction, the magazine follower was not engaging the slide stop after the last round. Most annoyingly, shooting 230 grain FMJ round nose ball ammo for which the gun was originally designed no less, there were several (at least three that I recall clearly) instances of failure to feed and/or to go fully into battery. For instance, the first round out of the first mag hung up on the feed ramp. Fortunately, there were no stovepipes or failures to extract.

The trigger was okay but not great. I may have to give SA the benefit of the doubt on this as, after the first magazine, I attempted to clean the crap off the feed ramp with a gun cleaning wipe only to be rewarded with the slide dropping on my trigger finger without warning. That’ll smart especially if you’re not expecting it.

The sights were of the Mil Spec, three dot, non-adjustable, blade and post variety. They’re adequate for blasting away, but not exactly precision shot placement material. If it were me paying hard earned cash to own one, I’d probably opt for Novak adjustable three dot sights with a fiber optic front sight (my eyes have gotten to the point through excess computer use that I need something that glows brightly) as a good balance between Bomar target sights and the blade and post. Accuracy was minute of bad guy out to 15 yards. I know I can shoot better than that (as proved on other guns later in the range outing); however, the target suggests that I might have been jerking the trigger some and/or breaking the wrist down. I really need to get out to the range more. 

After shooting through 50 rounds of .45 ACP and approximately 200 rounds of .22, I got fatigued. While NOF was shooting off the last of some 9mm he had with him for his Glock 19, I stuck my nose over the shoulders of the gents in the lanes next to NOF. One guy had a lovely brace of 5 1911 including an SA, 2 Kimbers, and two Taurus’. One of the Taurus’ belonged to this guys friend and had been customized with an 5 ½ to 6 inch compensated barrel. He was a real nice guy who had been a Colonel in the army by the markings on his biker jacket, but he REALLY needed some more target practice. His target at 7 yards looked more like it had been hit with a couple loads of buckshot instead of aimed fire from a 1911.

The other guy was shooting a .45 Long Colt Peacemaker clone of one sort or another. When I got to talking to his buddy about the 1911s, Peacemaker guy offered to let me shoot a mag through his Firestorm Commander sized 1911. Never one to turn down a friendly offer at the range, I accepted.

A quick aside here, just before making the offer to shoot the Firestorm, Peacemaker guy shot a mag through it. When he was done, I noticed that the slide didn’t lock back after the last round. Given that the SA Mil Spec had not been locking the slide back after the last round, it didn’t automatically register to me that the gun might still be hot. He was pointing it at the ceiling in the general direction of his buddy and NOF, finger off the trigger and pulled the empty mag. He passed it to me to handle; and, employing the corollaries to Rule Number 1, I pulled the slide back at which time we discovered that there was still a live round in the chamber.

Oops. Nothing like a little friendly reminder to always, always, always personally check every firearm to insure that it’s not loaded.

The Firestorm had the Novak three dot sights, beavertail safety, skeletonized hammer, lightweight adjustable trigger, etc. I have to say I was impressed with how it handled and shot for what is basically a budget priced 1911. I was able to hold a 2 to 3 inch group at 7 yards with no trouble at all.

If I had to choose between the Firestorm and the SA as the only two choices I had based on my experiences shooting them both “side by side” so to speak, I’d have to give the nod to the Firestorm. I’m sure some of SA’s higher end products are nice; and, if anyone wants to give me one, I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. However, since I can’t afford their higher end stuff, I won’t be plunking my hard earned cash down for the Mil Spec.

Any day I get to shoot something is a good day. Hopefully, NOF and I can make this a more regular occurrence. I know I need it.

I'm Gettin' Too Old For This...

Welcome, loyal readers, to the time frame arbitrarily known as the year 2011 A.D. If anyone ever figures out when the universe was actually made and time began, then we can talk about what year it actually is versus what year some long dead pope says it is or what the calendar chiseled in stone of a long gone society indicates it should be.

But, I digress...and I'm not even hung over.

I am cranky due to being sleep deprived though. Saturday night, The Queen and I traveled into the frozen wastelands north of Castle Erickson known as Frisco to visit some long time friends whom we had not been able to visit with much in recent times due to The Queen's health and their recent addition of a bundle of joy. We had a lovely dinner with them, drank some wine, and had a good conversation. For the most part. That lasted until 4:00 AM. On top of that, The Queen had a hard time getting to sleep which means we were up for another hour or two trying to get her to relax and nod off. I think my head finally hit the pillow sometime around 6:00 AM only to be repeatedly nudged and poked by The Queen for committing the unpardonable sin of snoring. My body clock woke me up at 8:57 AM, and I haven't seen the back side of my eyelids since. Fortunately, we had planned ahead that we would be spending the night at their house. Unfortunately, we didn't count on being awake the whole time.

To add insult to injury, we had a full day planned today. I had planned to meet Number 1 Follower and friends at the gun show in Ft. Worth with a trip to the range to follow. The Queen's aunt (her father's brother's wife) was in town and had indicated she would be stopping by at a time to be determined. After dragging tail back and arriving home at about noon, The Queen puttered about the castle for a few minutes making calls to her brother and her nephews regarding the anticipated arrival of the aunt before trying to go back to sleep. I, however, plodded off like a zombie to pick up the youngest nephew and head off to the gun show. This was his first gun show at the ripe old age of 15.

The nephew was a last minute, but welcome, addition to the plan. For some reason, he had been left at his brother's condo in Arlington last night after attending a going away party for a friend from church. Since his older brother and brother's roommate were going to be gone for work and other tasks, the younger nephew would have been left alone in a condo with no food (which I didn't find out until after we had walked around the gun show for three hours) and very little to do. Rather than see the boy bored out of his skull, The Queen asked him if he wanted to go with me to the show. The boy (I need to figure out a good nickname for him. He's got several...none of which I can print) gave a thumbs up, and I departed the castle to pick him up on the way to Fort Worth for the gun show.

On the way, he and I chatted about proper gun show etiquette: 1) Be polite, 2) Watch out for your surroundings/people around you (I watched one guy snag his leather jacket on an $1800 rifle and almost put it on the floor...only the quick reaction of someone else nearby saved it from hitting the ground),  3) Ask permission before handling weapons, 4) If you break/bleed on it, you bought it. He's a good, if goofy, kid. So, I wasn't worried about his behavior. I was just trying to give him some idea of what to expect.

There was one thing that I thought was kind of serendipitous. The boy indicated that he has an interest in World War II German Lugers, and he asked if there might be some at the show to see. I advised him that there was usually at least one dealer present who specialied in WWII weapons and might have a Luger or two for his drooling pleasure. It turns out that said dealer had the table right inside the front door of the show and had at least a dozen Lugers on display. I thought that was cool.

I tried to check on him from time to time without pestering him to make sure he was enjoying himself. I needn't have worried. The boy is smitten with weapons much like his uncle. I did ask him if he had added any guns to his wish list to which he replied in the affirmative. One in particular he liked was the Smith & Wesson .500 revolver. He also got to fondle and drool over his ultimate dream gun: The Thompson Submachine Gun (semi auto version, of course, since you don't see many full auto guns at these shows).

My intent for the day was not to purchase but to peruse and narrow my 1911 choice down from three to one. Unfortunately, I didn't see either of my top two contenders at the show. The closest I got was the Para GI Expert which is the next step down from the GI Expert ESP I'm considering. I only saw one STI pistol out of the entire show, and it was a 2011 VIP which didn't give me a good basis for an apples to apples comparison. Oh, well. There's another show coming up in two weeks.

I did, finally, get an up close and personal touch and squeeze with another pistol I've been interested in for a few weeks now: the Ruger SR40. Once upon a time, I owned a Glock 23 (.40 S&W). Glocks are good combat pistols. Unfortunately, I was never really satisfied with my particular Glock. Part of my disaffection for the Glock is it's overall aesthetic. Another part is the frame and grip angle was never really a good fit for my hand. Bottom line, the Glock just wasn't the right gun for me. Don't get me wrong, if the stuffing ever does hit the fan, I wouldn't hesitate to trust my life with another Glock. It just wouldn't be my first choice. The Ruger is getting good reviews in print and in the forums. I really like the feel and look of it. It fits my hand and points very naturally. I'm really happy with my Ruger 22/45, and I really like the fact that Ruger is American made. I'd like to see if I can find a local range that has one for rental; or, in the alternative, find a friendly shooter that has one who is willing to let me give theirs a test run. If I'm happy with it, I may just have to squeeze one into the budget (they're not that expensive) and use it to get into some local competition shooting.

I've posted my gunnie wish list here on a couple of other occassions. I've tweaked it here and there just a little since, but its more or less the same basic list. Recognizing that I don't have the luxury of abundant wealth or tons of free time to indulge my desire to turn money into smoke and noise, I've come to the conclusion that I need to focus in on my "must have" guns and gun related items.

First and foremost above all else is the 1911 .45. I've wanted one for 30 years. It's 2011, the 100TH Anniversary of the United States Military's acceptance of Saint JMB's Authorized Version, and I can't think of a better time to fulfill my life long desire for one of Saint JMB's finest. It's a proven, time honored design. There is no shortage of parts for it. The majority parts from any one manufacturer are interchangeable with those of another. You can go from a bone stock Rock Island Armory mil spec GI version starting at just under $500 all the way up to a full on, "speed is only a question of how much money you want to spend", race ready, tack driving custom from any one of a dozen top name companies. I can't afford a tricked out custom or even a mid range production 1911, but I am going to bring home a good "entry" level 1911 before my birthday in March.

The next item on my must have list is an AR-15. This may take a little more time than the 1911. At the very least, I plan on getting a stripped lower receiver before the end of the year so that I can get started building an AR suited to my tastes. Or several ARs given the fact that you can go from a medium to long range varmint sniping platform to a CQB capable carbine in seconds by swapping uppers. Also, I've been rethinking the whole "end of the world as we know it"/zombie outbreak three gun scenario. The AR platform may be a better choice than the Ruger 10/22. Supposedly, you can quickly convert a 5.56mm AR to shoot .22lr by swapping magazines and the bolt and bolt carrier group. That gives you the option to run milsurp 5.56mm, civilian .223 or .22lr (when you can't find anything else) in a package that can be used at any distance from up close and personal out to about 500 yards. It also comes with a handy, threaded barrel which accepts sound suppressors as easily as it accepts flash suppressors and compensators. I'm liking this idea more and more. Besides, a .223 in the nose will ruin anyone's day.

The last of the must haves is the .308/7.62 x 51mm rifle. The .308 round will take down anything in North America with extreme prejudice. At least, anything I'm likely to run into. It will serve as a combination introduction to long range shooting gun, hunting rifle and "just 'cause I want it". This is another "which would you prefer?" contestant. For the longest time, I've invisioned this rifle being a Remington 700 bolt action. Lots of good pluses, very few minuses. Lately, however, I've been toying with the idea of an AR-10 semi-auto rifle in this slot. I'm thinking the bolt action is the better choice for a long range gun especially when the mid range is covered with the AR-15, but there is something to be said for quicker follow up shots without having to manipulate a bolt. Decisions, decisions.

As I told The Queen the other night, I could be satisfied if I were to be restricted to those three must have guns for the rest of my life. If I can afford to indulge any of the other weapons on my midlife crisis list, that's just a bonus.

It's late my friends, and I am tired. I am off to bed to dream of cold steel. Be safe. Have fun. Let me hear from you.

Special Advertising Section: Dallas vs. Houston

A friend of The Queen's and mine sent us a somewhat cryptic email this morning with "Houston vs. Dallas" in the subject line. He lives in Houston and is currently in thrall with a young lady in the Dallas area whom The Queen and I have known from church for many a year.  I assumed from his email that he was seeking advice on which city is better. So, of course, I had to give him my opinion which I offer up to you, my readership, now as a public service and special advertisement:

Now then, I assume from the subject line that you are referring to the age old argument of which city is better (for whatever purpose); and, naturally, you seek out the honest opinion of someone who has lived in both cities. I'm happy to oblige.

First, my qualifications. I was born in Dallas, raised in the greater DFW area, educated in the greater DFW area, and the majority of my family still lives in the greater DFW area. DFW is and always will be home for me no matter where I go. My father lived in Houston for about 10 years ( from '89 to '98) giving me reason to visit often, I've spent at least one day a month in Houston my entire 15 year career in handling claims, and I lived in Houston for 3 years. Houston (along with Austin) is a second home for me.

Now, let's look at some important issues and compare the respective venues.

Traffic:

Houston and Dallas people always argue about which city has the worst traffic. Houston says Dallas is worse and vice versa. Based on my personal experience commuting in both cities, Houston has worse traffic. Regardless of which city you're in, traffic is a fact of life to be dealt with. I prefer to avoid it altogether.

Transportation:

Dallas wins this one hands down in my opinion. Dallas is 10 years ahead of Houston on public transportation. The DART light rail system will take you from the southeast and southwest corners of the city through downtown to the north and northeast. The line heading to Las Colinas in the northwest is due to be finished next year. There is even a connection to take you from Downtown Dallas to DFW airport and downtown Ft. Worth. The bus service is good and spreads through many of the suburbs

Housing:

Depending on where you look and what you want, I'd say Houston and Dallas are about evenly matched with respect to price and selection.

Church:

I have to give the nod to Houston on this one. [The Queen] and I have visited a lot of congregations around the country and met quite a few people in the church from around the world, Houston has the most loving, sincere, open, welcoming, [insert your favorite descriptive adjective here] I've come across. That's not to say that there is anything wrong with the Dallas congregation because I know many good people there as well. [ed. note: These two are a part of the same church group with congregations in both cities.]

Job Market:

I don't know much about the respective job markets outside of my field; however, I can tell you that, in my field, the Dallas job market is growing slowly while the Houston market is dying quickly. L., I know you mentioned you work in IT. The best man at our wedding is an IT guy here in Dallas. If you'd like, I can put the two of you in touch so you can ask someone in the business what he thinks of the job market. C., you mentioned customer service and I talked with you about insurance. There are still workers comp claim jobs in Houston as well as personal auto claim jobs, but the industry as a whole is moving away from Houston as a claims center. However, every insurance agent in the world is looking for good customer service reps, and Houston has its fair share of those.

Environment:

I give the nod to Dallas. Mold is an issue in Houston. Almost every house [The Queen] and I looked at to buy had mold in it. Houston is the heart of the petrochem industry. Air pollution is a fact of life and a cause for concern especially if you have a weak immune system. Ask [The Queen]. Dallas has its issues with air pollution, but not to the same level as Houston. Houston is more humid than Dallas due to its proximity to the coast. Heat levels are about the same. If anything, Dallas gets a little hotter than Houston, but Houston feels hotter because of the humidity.

Schools:

Toss up. I have no experience with public schools in either Houston or Dallas proper. I was educated in a suburb with a highly rated public school system. I can't say I got a bad education, but I didn't apply myself as much as I should have either. Based on news reports I've heard in both cities, stick to home schooling, private schools or suburban school districts if you are blessed with kids. Both cities have multiple public and private university and community college options for furthering ones education as necessary.

Miscellaneous:

Toss up. Houston and DFW are both major metropolitan areas. Houston is the fourth largest city in the US. Dallas is in the top 10. You've got airports in both cities that will take you anywhere in the world. There is major industry and business in both cities. Both cities individually have more choices for entertainment and activities than some small STATES have. Both cities have former presidents in residence (Houston has Daddy Bush, and Dallas has W). It's a one hour flight on Southwest from Dallas to Houston or a four hour drive (plus or minus) on I-45 making family and friends close at hand for regular visits.

You experience may vary. 

Pride and Prejudice

The media seems to have been in a tizzy lately touting that we are in a “post racial” America since the election of the first “black” president in Barack Obama (even though Bill Clinton tried to lay claim to that honor based on his slightly colorful ancestry). While I do not disagree that American has made great progress in overcoming its discriminatory past since the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, I still have to question the accuracy of the assertion that we are in a “post racial” culture for a couple of reasons not the least of which are my own beliefs, thoughts and expectations.

First, let me tattle on myself. When you make your living dealing with people primarily over the phone, you tend to develop mental pictures of what the folks on the other end of the line look like based on the tone of their voice and the way they speak. Sometimes those mental pictures are basically accurate. Sometimes not.

For example, I attended a mediation on Wednesday in Houston. This was my first opportunity to meet my insured’s representative, as well as the plaintiff, in person. I had spoken with my insured’s representative on the phone a couple of times and had, as most of us do, formed a mental picture of him. When I met him Wednesday, for the first time, at mediation, his appearance conformed in basic details to my mental picture. Mid 40s, athletic, educated male with pale skin. In other words…someone more or less like me.

As tends to happen at mediations, after the basic details of the case have been hammered into the ground, conversation tends to switch over to cover a wide range of subjects from small talk to sports to politics. My insured’s representative mentioned at one point in the conversation that he was recently divorced.

The case we were mediating involved a business dispute in which the plaintiff, who started the business my company insured, claimed that he was wrongfully removed from his position as president and CEO by the other shareholders. This is a family owned business. So, the other shareholders were related to the plaintiff by blood and marriage. The insured representative attending mediation was one of the other shareholders as was the plaintiff’s brother. The plaintiff’s brother also happened to be the insured representative’s now former father in law.

Here is where I have to tell on myself and admit that I was completely surprised by the fact that the plaintiff/insured rep’s former uncle in law was a tall, 350+ pound man with skin the color of Hershey’s Milk Chocolate. I wasn’t expecting that.

50 years after Sammy Davis, Jr. married a woman with skin paler than his, 47 years after Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, 43 years after movie goers were shown a “mixed” couple in Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner, 35 years after The Jeffersons showed America’s TV viewing audience an interracial couple (Tom & Helen) on a prime time sitcom, me growing up never having seen any direct indications of societal discrimination, etc., etc. and my mind’s eye still puts two and two together and assumes that a pale skinned guy is going to marry a pale skinned girl. And I have to ask myself why I was surprised by that unexpected development and why it matters or if it matters at all.

It’s not like I was raised by white supremacists or anything…with the possible exception of my maternal grandfather. I have my suspicions about him. Well, they’re not so much suspicions as they are well founded conclusions supported by significant circumstantial evidence. One of these days, I know I’m going to come across an old photo of a Klan rally from the 1950s and see his goofy lookin’ mug poking out of a white robe next to a burning cross. But, I digress.

I was born in 1970 to a middle class family living in a suburb of Dallas. I did not suffer the injustices of racial prejudice growing up. I have no direct memory of the struggle some people went through to fight for Civil Rights. I never had to drink from a color coded water fountain. I never had to be in a color coded school or be bussed to a school across town so that there was greater integration of “minorities” into the student population to satisfy some judge’s court order. I’ve never (to my knowledge) been discriminated against because of the color of my skin.

So, why should I give a flying flip about racial prejudice in the first place? That’s going to take some explaining. I’ll do my best. Here goes.

According to the Declaration of Independence, America’s founding fathers stated that “We hold these truths to be self evidence, that all men are created equal,…” For the moment, I want to set aside the obvious argument that slavery was alive and well at the time that sentence was written leading to the inevitable conclusion that some men were more equal than others. We’ll try to come back to that later.

Scientifically speaking, race is a meaningless term. You are either a member of a given species or you are not. If you were born from a set of parents who are of the same species and you share the same certain number of chromosomes as your parents and are capable of reproducing and giving birth to fertile offspring, you are generally considered to be a member of the same species as your parents. Individuals do not magically mutate into a new species. Evolution doesn’t work that way. Seems pretty straightforward so far, right?

Now, let’s try an analogy for a moment. Take the humble crocodile for a moment. Ugly as sin and just about as hospitable as an IRS agent with bad gas. You know what they look like. Green-ish, scaly, bad breath, sharp teeth, etc (I’m talking about the crocs…not the IRS agents). But, they mate and produce other little crocodiles (not IRS agents). However, every once in a while, there is an aberration in the genetic code resulting in an almost cute little bugger known as an albino crocodile. Instead of being green-ish, albinos are mostly white. To my knowledge, no one considers an albino croc to be of a different species than its green-ish parents.

Anthropologically speaking, race is still meaningless. Culture and language are what matter. Even though you’d be hard pressed to differentiate between a pale skinned American and a pale skinned European at a glance, there is a significant difference between the two culturally and linguistically.

What about the Bible? America’s founding fathers seem to be making a thinly veiled reference to God in the Declaration of Independence with the “created equal” bit. The book of Genesis says that God created Adam and Eve in HIS image. It doesn’t say whether they were pale skinned, dark skinned or purple. There is no indication anywhere in the Bible that someone of one skin color is superior or inferior to another.

Once you pull off the outer layer of skin, we are all pretty much look the same when you get right down to it (setting aside the obvious differences between genders). So, why do humans persist in thinking that skin color (or religion, or sexual orientation, or national origin, etc.) makes any difference at all when it comes to our species? If a human is a human is a human, why do we perpetuate prejudice in all its forms (including affirmative action, quotas, little check boxes for ethnicity on applications and forms, etc.) through the use of something as scientifically meaningless as “race”?

In my opinion, it is because of the US vs. THEM mentality. We, as humans, want to take care of those close to us. Our family. Our friends. Those people who are like US. Not those crazy people in the other trailer park. Not those…eeekkk…northerners. Not….THEM.

Blood is thicker than water as the old saying goes.

Perhaps that is why European monarchies inbred so much as a means of diplomacy. Oh no, we can’t invade England. That’s Uncle Buckie’s family. How about France? No, no. That won’t do. Aunt Marie would have a fit. Hey, we don’t have no kin in Israel. Let’s go kick some butt down there and call it a crusade to reclaim the holy land or some such.

Perhaps that is also why slaves in almost every culture were “not from around here.” Need a cheap source of labor and you can’t use your own kids (…they may be lazy but they’re family). Hey, how about the neighbor kids? No, that won’t work. Their folks will want us to pay them the going rate plus extra benefits. Here’s an idea, let’s purchase some of them funny lookin' fellers from that other country over t’ yonder and….

You get the idea.

We’re not living in a “post racial world”. If anything, we are still living in the age of racism. Our society and our culture remain obsessed with “race”.

Black or White? Caucasian or Hispanic? In a truly post racial world, these terms have no meaning.

If we were living in a post racial world, Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson would not have a national audience.

If we were living in a post racial world, it would be possible for a “white” person to criticize the “black” President without being labeled a racist.

If we were living in a post racial world, groups like the KKK or the NAACP would no longer exist as they would no longer serve any purpose.

If we were living in a post racial world, companies like the one I work for would not need to provide “Diversity and Inclusion” training to avoid discrimination lawsuits.

If we were truly living in a post racial world, I would not have been surprised at a “mixed race” couple.

Does it matter? I think it does.

We are all the same. We are all humans. God does not see white people and black people. He sees only people that He made in His image. His creations which He really did make equal, and He loves them all equally.

We are all the same. We share the same planet. Our communications, our travels and our economies are global and almost instantaneous in nature. What happens over there has effects over here.

So, what do we do? For starters, stop.

Stop and think about how you think about yourself. How you think about others. How do you describe yourself or someone else to others? Have you ever really seen someone with white or black skin? I haven’t. How about we try for a little greater accuracy in how we describe physical attributes? To use The Queen’s favorite phrase…”Use Your Words.”

Stop asking for or providing meaningless and irrelevant information. A person’s skin color or ancestry has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not they are fit to obtain a loan or capable of performing a job.

Stop supporting organizations that perpetuate “racism” through membership criteria or ideology.

Stop asking me to feel guilty for something in which I never participated.

Stop using something that never happened to you as an excuse for failing to achieve.

Stop assuming that he or she is just like THEM and see if they might be like you.

If you believe what The Bible teaches, we are all related at one point or another.

Which means that there really is no THEM. There is only US.

Must…Shoot…Something…Soon

A few weeks ago, I was at a mediation with one of the attorneys I work with on a regular basis. Somehow, the subject of guns came up. That’s not all that surprising given the fact that this is Texas. I’m pretty sure the subject arose when the attorney mentioned that he was in the market for a “coyote gun” for use at the little piece of property where he and his wife keep a couple of horses. Coyote guns are probably second only to zombie guns for eliciting strong opinions from those who have little to no experience with either varmint.

Anywho, the attorney mentioned that he was eyeing the Henry lever action .22Mag offered by Cabela’s. I suggested that he go to a gun show, see what was available and make a more informed decision from there. When he mentioned that he had never been to a gun show, I offered to go with him. He thought that was a splendid idea, and a plan was set in motion.

So, yesterday, after a lunch of muy bueno Tex Mex food at Chuy’s and despite our server’s attempts to be as surly as possible, the attorney, Number 1 Follower and I headed off to Dallas Market Hall to drool over some guns. Much fun was had by all, and I came away with a new addition to the arsenal:

This is the Ruger MkIII 22/45 Replaceable Panels model. The Ruger 22/45 has been around since at least the 1980s (I remember fondling a few back in the day when I worked at Walmart, and Wally World still carried pistols), and its primary selling point over the regular Ruger .22 pistols is that the grip angle is same as the legendary 1911 style pistol of which I am an unabashed fan. However, the replaceable panels model is a relatively new addition to the Ruger lineup. The main differences between the standard 22/45 and the replaceable panels model being that the polymer frame has front and back strap checkering and you can swap out grip panels just like on a regular 1911 style pistol.

Astute readers will note that this particular pistol is not the Ruger Stainless MkIII Hunter model that I had been eyeing. There two main reasons for this: 1) I found the 22/45 RP for about $150-$200 less than the MkIII Hunter (I paid $277.50 plus tax to be exact), and 2) did I mention that I LOVE the 1911 and the 22/45 RP just feels right? In fact, the 22/45 RP feels so much more like the 1911 than the standard 22/45 that they should almost be put in different categories. The standard 22/45 has a fairly thin, slick polymer frame which don’t really fit my hands very well at all and would get slippery in a hurry for those of the sweaty palmed persuasion. Then there’s the aesthetics…they are about as pleasing to the eye as a set of Tupperware.

But the 22/45 RP, that’s another story. Do you like wood and metal together? This puppy has very finely checkered cocobolo wood grip panels setting off the blue steel very nicely. Don’t like wood? No problem. Insert favorite grip panels here.

I haven’t had a chance to fire it yet; however, dry firing seems to suggest a smooth trigger pull at about 3 or 4 pounds with a crisp break. The trigger is wide, grooved and very comfortable to my fingers. The front sight is a non-adjustable black blade which I am almost certainly going to replace with the Hiviz fiber optic option offered by Ruger as soon as possible. The rear sight is fully adjustable for windage and elevation. It too is all black; however, there is a small groove around the notch which could easily be painted with a fine brush and a bright color for greater clarity.

Needless to say, I can’t wait to take it out and play.

P.S. For the curious, the attorney didn't make a purchase, but he did indicate he had narrowed down the coyote gun selection to the Marlin and Rossi lever actions in .357/.38.