Take It or Leave It, part two

Bare with me I've only had one cup of coffee this morning and this rusty middle-aged (heh) brain of mine isn't quite ready to function at full speed.

Yesterday we touched on the subject of keeping a low profile as gun owners, the importance of gun safes, and the strategy of nondiscrimination where it concerns the acquisition of firearms and ammunition. 

My good friend, Matt sent an email and asked if I'd comment on a subject we've all seen posted on various blogs many times over.

I'll use his term, 'Chest Thumping.' A very apt description, and silly. You've seen it - Mr. Blogger states to the world he's gonna kick some butt, shoot the black booted thugs at his front door when (not if) they arrive to take away his guns.

Really.

Remember the point I made in part one of keeping a low profile. First of all most of these so called bad-asses would, I'm sure, turn and run, as he screams for his mommy, after the first gunshot.

Secondly, if you plan to stand your ground and take on the massive fire power utilized and available to law enforcement and military you will achieve nothing more than the complete destruction of your home and the death of your family members. As an individual, you will lose.

Never announce your intentions to the enemy. All resistance against tyranny are birthed in silence.

I once met a gentleman small of physical stature. After our handshake he excused his height. I'd never met a man with such a self-depreciating attitude. He laid his heart and soul out to me and made excuses for his lack of physical ability. Near the end of  our talk I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "Size isn't the measure of a man, it's the man's character and the goodness of his soul by which will be remembered and judged."

Deep waters run silent, but deadly.

*****

Let's move along. It's readily apparent our supply of firearms and related fodder have nearly run dry. In the meantime, as we wait for the warehouse to be resupplied, concentrate your efforts on spare parts and the other odd bits and pieces available. Don't tell me you cannot find spare parts. The UPS driver just left me a small package. It contained a nice lower parts kit. They're out there, you just need to knuckle down and search.

If in this search you only find a few springs, take them. Check the flea markets. The locals, those that live pay check to pay check are digging through the rubble of their homes and are now taking advantage in this over reaction to fear and with the sight of huge profits in their greedy little eyes are selling all things gunny. Jump.

I know, money is tight. But, if, and it's a big if, Biden and crew have their way, that three grand AR will bring six in the near future. At present I'm far more worried about magazines and ammunition. I have a simple strategy - I tell every person I meet of my wants. I give them a list which includes all those odd partial boxes of grandpa's ammo, any caliber. Those old moldy boxes of twenty-two and forty-five will last a good eighty years. I use the word, cash, and the cash is also here for those firearms stashed in their closets. It works. Take it or leave it but that's my advice.

Sorry folks but I need to cut this short. I just can't work with the interruptions and these continued interruptions keep the bacon on the table.

Later.

Stephen

Take It or Leave It, Part One

First allow me a momentary and rare rant on gun control then I'd like, with your gracious permission, to give you, my readers, a bit of advice.

No law can require the individual to prove he or she won't violate another citizens rights in the absence of evidence of same.

But, this is precisely what gun control laws do. Gun control laws use force against the individual in the absence of any specific evidence that he is about to commit a crime. They say to the rational, responsible gun owner; you may not have or carry a gun because others have used them irrationally or irresponsibly.

This is unjust and intolerable. The government may coercively intervene only when there is an objective threat that someone proves he is willing to use force. The government may respond only to specific threats. It has no right to initiate force against the innocent, and a gun owner is innocent until specific evidence arises that he has threatened to initiate force.

What's my advice you ask, well, it's kinda simple - keep your head down. You're a target. Not only for the government thugs among us, with the intent to restrict our Second Amendment rights, but also thieves.

There is a lucrative market in America today in firearms, stolen firearms. The fear of gun control has had awful consequences on the firearms market. When Springfield XD handguns are listed for private sale at two thousand dollars, thieves take notice. Yesterday alone, here in the River City, six homes were burglarized by moon fleas in search of firearms. In one of those homes a closet full of long arms and several handguns were stolen. I'm willing to bet within an hour each of those hot weapons were sold on the underground market. Not one of those home owners utilized a gun safe.
 
They're watching you. Every punk, moon flea, democritter, and junkie wants your firearms. So when I say, 'keep your head down,' I mean it. Take my shop for instance. If I had a nickle for every man that has walked inside and loudly given a complete inventory of his gun safe or closet to complete strangers I'd be able to purchase several rifles at today's current prices.

Remove your Buckmark hats. Rip the Remington patch from your jackets. Store the camo pants and shirts, and for goodness sake don't write your local paper and bitch about gun control and sign your name because you've just placed your home on the map. Google isn't your friend.

Blend into the landscape. Pretend you're a poodle walker. Restrain from the over the shoulder sweater and pink shirt routine...there are limits.

As much as possible make it difficult for the moon fleas when they enter your home.  Buy, if possible, a gun safe. Any brand name. A large one. Cram that sucker full...stack your weapons tight. Uncle Joe's old Winchester tucked under the bed will not fool the professional thief. When they enter your home the first visit is to the master bedroom closet. Then, they bend down and reach under the bed. And yes, they search beneath the bed cloths and mattress too.

Gun safes, if loaded properly and secured to wall and floor, are damn heavy and difficult to move. Most thieves, not all, will not take the time necessary to break into a well made gun safe. Gun cabinets, on the other hand, offer little resistance.

Let's change the pace.

Second piece of advice. Buy, accept, take if given, any firearm offered to you hence forth. If it works, grab it.

We haven't the ability to predict the future of gun control. Yes, we can make an educated guess but in the end the Left will hurt us. The point is, prepare for any eventuality.

If you've shopped for ammunition of late you have probably found the store room bare. I checked last evening and all I found was 'out of stock, no back orders accepted,'other than the time honored and very useful vintage loads. When's the last time you broke out Grandpa's old thirty-eight special...? A wise man or woman would say to themselves, "Hey, that little baby could just save my life."

Forget the 5.56 NATO and concentrate on the always overlooked ammunition of our past. If funds allow order a few hundred rounds of .38 Special and .357. Think about Uncle Henry's worn 'thirty-thirty.' How many boxes do you have set aside for the old beauty. It's the over looked calibers that may one day save your bacon.

Tuck a few boxes in the safe and smile because I'm willing to bet we will have a tax slapped on the purchase of ammunition very soon indeed. Every Dick and Jane out there is bashing their heads against the wall in the vain search for the always popular forty-five and nine millimeter loads as you sit back and smile with your stash of thirty-eight special and that extra case of twenty-two long rifle.

Hey, work calls. I'll make this part one.

See you later with part two.

Thanks, Dan, for the tip.

Stephen 
  

Another Good Read

Want to help one of our friends...then please, buy Holly's book. It's available for Kindle.

Find it here, only $2.99.


Thank you,

Stephen

This Post

Is to inform you I'll post later.

As you wait read a good book.

If you've ever read Mr. Bukowski's works you need not be warned of its explicit content. If you haven't, be warned.  

Stephen

Stuff In The Truck

When I arrived home this evening I backed my truck into the drive and removed all the clutter from its interior. Tomorrow morning my mechanic will drop by the shop and drive it away for a few minor repairs. In preparation for his arrival I had much to remove.

So, out came three hand guns, two rifles, several full ammo cans of .45, .40, 9 mm ammunition, a case of frag grenades, two rocket launchers and six anti-personnel mines. Six or seven different brands and types of knives, my get-home bag and more hats than I could count.

I then searched under the back seat and grabbed my tool bag and two bottle jacks. I left the bottled water, the jerked boars head and its now yellowed tusk. I locked my flashlight in the console along with my winter gloves. The spare tent and rain gear went into the garage too. Thieves love tents and rain jackets. I then remembered the ax and my Hi-Lift jack. I like and trust my mechanic, but why place temptation before him.

While digging among the debris I found an old bag of Little Bit's candy...trash can. I'll keep the three 1911 magazines I pinched from Duke's range bag....he'll never miss them.

My truck should ride six inches higher tomorrow morning, and for sure, I'll feel naked as I drive to the shop.

Okay, I lied. I only have four grenades, and one rocket launcher. Sheesh, some people just can't take a joke.




Stephen

Bits & Pieces

I was dead to the world. Sleep is good, especially since it took me forever to reach rim. Far back, way down in my subconscious, I hear, "Honey, please. Do you have a flashlight?"

My dream responds, "Sure. I always sleep with a flashlight." She yells back, "Please Honey, wake up."

Oh.

Seems Sweet Wife washed her hair this morning. In our master bathroom we have this built-in vanity and mirror where she sits to dry her hair. She also uses an small electric heater (what is it with women and heat) but fails to turn the sucker off when she uses the hairdryer. The circuit fails.

Lovely Sweet Wife runs to the garage and tries, in the darkness, to flip the breaker back to hot. She mistakenly hits the main. Total blackout.

I'm at work an hour early.

*****

This morning I shot an armadillo. I hate 'em with a passion. They undermine my deck and generally make a mess of my backyard. When I noticed the booger it was using its front legs to gather and pull hickory leaves for its nest. It would gather the leaves then use reverse to pull the bundle under my deck.

I eased outside with an old Rossi .22 pump and gave it two rounds. The rifle was loaded with CB caps. It flopped and flipped for a few moments but in the end...

DRT.

Like I said, hate 'em.

*****

Yesterday a fella walks into the shop. He hands me a nice Ruger LC9 and says, "It won't work. Its a piece of sh*t. You want it?"

Me, "What's the problem?"

"The trigger won't work."

I insert the magazine. Slap back the slide and pull the trigger. Snap.

Him, all red faced, "Oh. What did 'ya do?"

"Just inserted the magazine."

I reached to give back his handgun. He refused to take it. Then, "You want it? I don't like it, and besides the governments gonna take 'em all back."

Debate wasn't necessary. The Lord offered me a kiss and I wasn't about to say no.

I made a ridiculous offer and he, without hesitation, accepted.

Later, as is my habit, I went online and ordered two spare magazines. The cost of the magazines far exceeded the price of the handgun.

I smiled all afternoon.

*****

I normally take my first cup of coffee outside the shop. I like to soak in the cool fresh air and listen to crows cuss, and I like to watch the children as they march towards school. They're a lively lot, five little boogers.

This morning, "Hey, Mr. Stephen." I wave.

There are three girls and two boys, most African-American. As they draw near one little girl separates from the pack. She stops before me and points and, "You gots a bad cup. I's gonna be tells my teacher 'cause you's gots 'dat bad cup."

Blink, blink. She was right, of course, my coffee cup has several images of Glock handguns.

I suppose I'd slapped a questioning expression on my face because another little boy explains..."Mr. Stephen dat dare cups be has guns on it. Guns be bad. Teacher tells us da' be's bad 'tings."

As they moved away I yelled, "Teacher's wrong. Guns are good."

They ran.

I so miss the days when a student was able to drive to school with the back window rack filled with rifle and shotguns. 


Stephen

A Gray Day and Bacon

Earlier I mentioned a pork roast awaited my attention. I've since placed her to bed. She's a small roast, a lean pork loin, and will make us very happy later this evening.

As far as preparation we first begin with, of course, bacon. Just a few slices, cut into thirds, and allowed to render.

If you are afraid of bacon (leave now) olive oil is acceptable. As the bacon sizzles put a hitch into your britches and prep an onion and more than a few cloves of garlic. Remember, my roast is a baby so I only used one large onion, and as you chop, don't forget the bacon. If it burns you'll be required to move to some ungodly place, like New York City.

When bacon has given all its wonderful fat remove and sit aside.

Now, break out the flour and season the roast to your taste. I use the basics, salt, pepper and Cajun spices.

Now brown the roast. Take your time, be patient. You want all sides caramelized.

Don't forget the sides and ends of the roast.

Boring stuff, huh. I know, but I'm bored. Anyway, as the roast takes on its tan, grab some small potatoes, wash and quarter. Find a few carrots and place them on standby, and mushrooms if you have a few hidden away in the back of the fridge. Grab the stock and get ready.

After the roast has finished set it aside. At this point you should remove the excess fat - leave about three tablespoons and add your chopped onions, and after a bit, the garlic. Caramelize, or at least give them enough time to  clarify.

Note, seldom, if ever, do I use a high flame. The gas setting is normally kept below medium. If you use electric (sorry about that) I can't help you with your heat settings but keep the heat under control. Burnt bacon fat lends an awful taste to your meal.

When the onion mixture has finished its dance add a bit of flour. It's time to make a light roux. Increase the flame and stir like a madman. It will thicken. When your roux has the consistency of glue pour in about two cups of stock and again stir like crazy...please don't burn. As far as stock, use what's available but try and keep it on the light side. Chicken or vegetable will suffice. Beef stocks richness tends to overpower the light flavors of pork, so if you are stuck with beef stock cut it with water.

Now, add back the bacon (go ahead a eat one piece of meat candy if you wish) and the pork roast. Pour the potatoes and carrots around its edges and top with the mushrooms. If you have a rosemary plant, dash outside and cut a couple of sprigs, it works well with the roast. Boost the flame and bring the pot to a boil. Reduce to a simmer (I lower the flame and use a simmer plate) and wait a few hours.

There, she's all snug in her bed. 

Serve with your favorite side dishes. A sweet pork loin sure makes a gray day bright.

*****

When Sweet Wife arrived home from church this morning she walked into the kitchen and stood and watched me prep the meal. She even pinched a piece of my bacon. I asked if she'd enjoyed the service.

"Yes, we had the Last Supper."

Me, "Huh?"

We then went on to have a great debate. I asked why she thought she'd had, 'The Last Supper,' and being the smart ass I am mentioned perhaps she meant breakfast. I ducked.

I said, perhaps you meant Communion. She said no the church's handout indeed referred to the act as The Last Supper.

 

I then said (remember above self-description) maybe they'd served dinner. She then reached for a wooden spoon...I did not move quickly enough...it hurt.

Okay, all joking aside, did she win the argument? I believe the Lord's Supper and Communion are one and the same. I just think Communion is easy on the ears...I mean, come on, to serve supper an hour after breakfast.

You decide.

*****

Late last night (I don't sleep very well) I flipped through the offerings of NetFlix and came upon a show titled, 'Foyle's War.'  Before I knew what had happened it was well after zero dark thirty. This is a very well written show and I (as Sally Field said) like it. Period piece. Give it a try.

Stephen