My Friend, Senior

One of my best friends, Senior, has ventured forth in the world of the written word. He has a new blog, aptly titled, Senior's Mess. He is a retired Senior Chief from our great United States Navy. He's also, if I haven't as yet mentioned, a very close personal friend.

Senior is a blessed man in that he's the husband of the lovely and sweet, Glock Mom, and the father of two wonderful little boys. As a matter of fact I tried to bring the boys home this afternoon. They're seven and six and I love them a whole bunch...

I'm sure many of you know we have a group of like minded individuals; a support group made of many of our close friends. We're a rather large group. Whatever this old world throws our way we have each others backs, or six, as we said in the military. Another friend within this group is our good friend, Duke.  We were all gathered today to support another friend, Poor ShooterSteve. He took on a beautiful woman in marriage...even when we warned him. Rambling here...let me cut this short.

Go visit my friends new blog, please. He's a nice guy, and he packs a gun. Be warned.

Now, you have four of us.

Ouch

Was the thought that came to mind when I sat down, early this afternoon, at a friends wedding party. The lawn chair was hot, the wind beyond warm, the air still and thick with humid vapors. I hate hot. Here it is One September, where if still in my beloved western mountains I'd have been out in the cool rain filled forest hunting Grouse.

Anyhow, I'm too darn worn out and ticked off and HOT, still, to write. Where is the Fall weather. I'm sick of the wait. I want cold....cold and wind and apple cider and the scent of oak on a slow burn in my fireplace. I want cool windy days. I want to see some friggin leaves drop and coat my yard like a carpet of yellow rust.

Here I sit with our air conditioner set at sixty-nine degrees and I want to see frost on the pumpkin.  I'm sick of three hundred dollar a month electric bills just so I can sleep, when sleep arrives. Stupid ceiling fan whirling away - what a waste.

Here we were, all gathered to honor a friend and his new wife, and all I can think about is perhaps a cold beer, slipped inside my trousers, might feel better than it should.

Perhaps I should leave the room.

Stephen 

Very Good Advice

Aside from the fact I'm not qualified, it's important to understand I normally do not make nor give legal advice. 

But, due to the recent arrest of a former Marine and subsequent incarceration for 'psychiatric' review, I believe the following video very important to any American who exercises their God given right to self-defense. In short, if you own, carry or use a firearm in this country please take a few moments from your very busy life and watch.   

This video has been around the block but its message is timeless.

On YouTube you will find parts two and three. H/T, Survivalblog. 

Stephen

Fire

My friend, That Guy, posted a cool picture of his new Coleman lantern last night. Since I'm on a Coleman equipment kick I made a comment to him I'd post other pictures too. I said I'd post photos taken of my Coleman 502 Single Burner Stove.

I lied.

This is my new/old Coleman Peak Backpack Stove made in Canada by Coleman. It's small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Burns white gas or Coleman fuel. With an adapter it will also use kerosene.

Notice the orange flame. She's in the warm stage. After about a minute she'll be ready to kick a pot of waters butt.

Now, she's a hot blue beauty. Ready to prepare your meal. It'll boil a pot of water in about three minutes.

I haven't as yet had a chance to unload and fire my Coleman 502. Give me a few days and I'll post pictures of her too. These little cooking gems can still be found on Ebay. Bid carefully and be aware of the shipping cost.

Seems I have a Coleman bug....it's addictive.

Remember, try and live by the rule of three.

Stephen

The Gold Standard

From the Wall Street Journal:

BY SETH LIPSKY

An under-reported development of this campaign season is the Republican Party's decision this week to send Gov. Mitt Romney into the presidential race on a platform effectively calling for a new gold commission. The realization that America's system of fiat money is part of its economic problem is moving from the fringes of political discussion to the center.

It's about time.

Stephen

 

Lost and Found

I think I've mentioned my efforts in reorganizing my ammunition and reloading supplies. It's been awful hot out in the garage even with the door open. So I rush in to sort and stack then rush back out.

During one of my hot dashes I came across this bundle. It had fallen behind some ammo cans. Said to myself, "Self, what have we here...."

Self answered, "Well, you idiot, it's a bag filled with 7.62x39 ammunition loaded on stripper clips." Indeed, a bag of lost gold. One of my AK-47 clones will be very happy when the zombies attack.

I return to my labors. I stretch and tug and move debris from my path and reach down and pull out a plastic bag. Sweat drips into my eyes. I say a few choice words. Slap the bag down and I hear this 'clank.' I ignore it in a mad dash back inside for a tall glass of iced tea.

As I drink and soak in the cool air I remembered that 'clank.' Back in the heat of the demon garage I bend and grab the plastic bag. Self asked, "What have we now."

When the bag was opened, self smiled. Well I'll be damned, eleven (count 'em) AR-15 green follower magazines. Twenty rounders.

I own too much stuff.

Stephen
 

Out of The Blue

The old timer walks in and hands me a canvas sack. Inside I find three boxes of 16 gauge shotgun shells and three loose paper hulled number one buckshot.

I give him a questionable look.

He said, "I don't need 'em anymore. Gave my guns away twenty years ago. Found them in the closet and knew you'd like to have them. Well, you do want them, don't ya?"

"Yes, Sir, and thank you. May I give you a few dollars for the shells?"

He said no and we chatted a while longer. After a few minutes he ambled towards the door. I again said thanks. Just before he left he smiled and said, "Knew you'd like the red box."

You've got to love old timers.

Stephen