It's official. I am now a certified Old Fart, having progressed from Jr. Geezer to full-fledged Geezer.
The Big Five-Oh has arrived, and I don't mean the ones who drive up in black and white Fords.
Yeah, it's been forever and a day since I last posted, but I'm still around. As to writing more productively, we'll see. That's a hurdle, but I've cleared a few of those in my time.
Anyway, I'm just sayin', it's good to be here.
Words fail when you wish for them to express your shock, sorrow and condolences..... and you find that words are indeed, inadequate, at the very best.
Christiana Hendrix, 1974-2007
Mike’s wife Christiana was killed Friday afternoon while riding her Sportster. Mike was on his own bike and wasn’t injured. Stunned and heartbroken doesn’t begin to cover this. Words always feel so useless and empty when someone you love dies, but I hope Xenia and Martin know their remarkable daughter was very much loved by her extended family, too.
We miss you terribly, C. And you know we’ll take good care of your four-legged friends for you. Requiescat In Pace, my beautiful friend.
Mike, my prayers are with and for you, sir. And for your beloved Christiana.
I hope you'll find solace in the more eloquent words of so many others. And please forgive me the inadequacy of mine here.
I pray for you peace, in this time of pain.
I'm posting this late in the day on the 26th, so you might call this "A Year and a Day". I'll just call it a year though.
Back in the '70s, one of the best songwriters of the era laid down an epic track, celebrating the music and mourning the loss of Buddy Holly. American Pie, by Don McLean remains high in the pantheon of superior songs, and it is a fitting parallel to this annerversary.
The Day the MuseSick Died.
For that atrocious pun alone, Rob would have me dragged off and shot.
I can think of less praiseworthy forms of demise. Seriously, I can picture Rob chortling and laughing his patented "Buwahahaa!" as he'd watch me trooped off to the post and blindfold for Abuse of the English Language.
A few days short of one year ago, I wrote this eulogy in tribute to a man who's impact on my life is mirrored in the lives of dozens of other writers, and quite literally, thousands of other readers.
My closing words from that year-ago eulogy are no less fitting today, than then.
Now, a final word. I've been as maudlin, emotionally torn-up and just flat-out shattered at Rob's demise as imaginable. I've shared tears with friends on the phone, swapped some war-stories of Rob and most sadly, have been the bearer of the bad news to three who had not yet read of his death. Those were the worst moments of all.
But now, it's time to move on. Rob wrote often of his football days, of playing through the pain, of hustling through the hurt. So, we've got it to do.
Life goes on. Shitty things in the news which would've pissed Rob off still need ranting. The laughable idiocy of the Left still need lampooning. Bourbon needs be sipped, cigars need be smoked, hogs must be roasted and fresh green peanuts need their boiling.
It falls to us to do all that, lest we be dragged off and shot.
Goodbye, Rob. Adios, Acidman, you cranky old bastard.
Your friend,
Jim
Sloop New Dawn
Galveston, TX
And to that, may I get an Amen?
Updated, ten minutes after initial post:
Some of you might wish to revisit what many other bloggers had to say a year ago. Ain't none of us going to fill the hole Rob left. None, of us.
The classic scent of the common man. Common many years ago and less so now, but not a forgotten fragrance either. It is still spashed daily by thousands, upon a like number of wizened, grizzled mugs.
A scent considered dated, passe' and far out of style, yet which still sells millions of dollars worth annually; the men who wear it are to those who love them, absolutely never dated, passe' or out of style.
This evening, I read the following comment in response to this post by the always read-worthy Law Dog Files.
Arfin Greebly said...
LD,Dammit.
You made my eyes water, and I'm not eating anything hot.
If I somehow managed to grow into my father, I would consider it an honor.
I have long felt those were shoes I could not fill.
Every time I review the integrity with which he has lived his life, I find myself wanting.
I hear ya, Afrin.... and raise you an "amen".
So, though while Law Dog's post speaks of an entirely different sort of spice, he speaks the common language of sons who come to know thier fathers later in life, and surprisingly, in their own lives as they live them.
A bit melancholy, to be sure. But not sad. No, not sad at all.
Indeed, every morning that I drag the whetted steel across my own aging jowls, I find myself more and more to be shaving the face of my Father.
So, Mr. Greebly? Don't feel bad, mate. I know I can never fill my Dad's shoes. Not even close. I'll be happy if I can be merely half the man my Dad is, and even that is to aspire to fight above my weight. For all his flaws, mistakes and shortcomings, he's lived a life which far outstrips mine in accomplishment, experience and integrity.
I admire him beyond words, and love him beyond measure.
And shall, always.
Happy travelling, Dad, and Happy Father's Day!
addendum:
By the way, I come to my love of black pepper quite of my own volition. I can remember quite cleaerly, the four of us (Dad, my late Mom and (now estranged) brother, dining at the Western Steak House on Orangethorpe Ave in Fullerton, CA. And my folk's watching in astonished amazement as I quite literally blanketed my steaks (we ate there often enough), in a good solid layer of black pepper, relishing every bite. I was in the 2nd grade then.
And while I've never came to appreciate any sort of bell pepper or hot chili peppers, I still loves me a well peppered steak.
Writing like this is what hooked me on reading blogs, and in no small part, why I started blogging lo those many years ago.
Don't stop there however. Keep reading each preceeding link. I think you'll like what you read. I also think you'll like the man behind that keyboard out there.
Meet The Bastige. And welcome to the blogroll, Larry. This former USAF cop, salutes you.
Looking back over the past four years of Smoke on the Water, this remains my favorite post. I believe in it, and I stand by every word. Then, as now.
Sadly though, traitors who seek vainglory and high political office today betray our fallen heroes, all in the name of personal gain, political advantage and a sick, twisted belief that all that is wrong in this world can be laid at the feet of the United States of America.
They are wrong.
The brave men and women who served our country, and who now lie at eternal rest, are not to be cast aside as mere pawns by those who betray their very sacrafice. Not deny it; betray it.
A few days ago, the United States Senate passed the bill fuding the troops engaged in the Iraqi Theatre of Operations. The vote was 80-14.
Of those fourteen; I no longer consider them worthy of the sacrafices made by our warriors. Regardless of party, they have in my consideration, forfeit that which has been won for them by the blood and lives of the men and women I write about in the following post.
The honor due our fallen soldiers can be upheld in large measure, by seeing to it that those fourteen traitors who at present, bear the title United States Senator, do so no longer at the first electoral opportunity. I'll deal with them later. They don't even deserve to have their names mentioned in this same article which is dedicated to heroes felled in the cause of freedom.
Our troops; past, present and future, deserve better.
They deserve our all.
And now, please let me once again give to you what I'd first written and posted on May 28, 2004.
For Love Of Country
And of our fellow man.
In the face of this electoral season's acrimony, it behooves us all as Americans to every now and then declare a truce, step back from the brink and to take stock of this awesome Nation of ours.
Of all of ours.
Be you Raving Liberal or Vast Right-Wing Conspirator, this time is not about you. Or about me.
Each year the soldiers of the Third United States Infantry Regiment ("The Old Guard") take part in the ceremony called "Flags In." Just before Memorial Day, each grave in Arlington National Cemetery is decorated with a small American flag.
The flags remain in place until the conclusion of the Memorial Day Weekend when they are all removed. It is the only time during the year when American flags are permitted at all gravesites in the Cemetery. The "Flags In" detail took place this year on Thursday, 27 May 2004.
Personally, I believe deeply that we lose something vital to our survival as a Nation when we forget the blood of patriots.
Words, symbols, heated rhetoric and clever argument all pale when measured against the brilliance of the white of marble, the emerald carpet of living grass borne over they who rest beneath, forevermore.
And the fields and fields of flags upon each, bearing quiet witness to the precious, eternal value of that sacrafice.
Dignity, honor, respect and a day of rememberence is all that they ask now of us.
Especially, rememberence.
So, this weekend, set aside if only for a day, thoughts of (D) or (R). Rail not against your fellow American, nor wish harm to him, his party or his creed.
Not on this day.
The men and women in those graves are no longer Democrats or Republicans. They are still and eternally though Americans, and are forevermore worthy of this day given but to them.
Honor the Day. Honor Them.
From their dark and silent graves, they give more honor to our Nation than any one politican, party or officeholder dares ever imagine.
Dignified beyond words, with nobility above the highest offices of government, these silent warriors speak loudly of what it is to be American.
They did not die for the Republicans. Nor for the Democrats, Greens or Libertarians.
Whether in combat, or fifty years later surrounded by only the memories of comrades long since passed, the men and women resting forever under those flags once marched proudly under that banner. They have earned nothing less than the unqualified respect of a grateful Nation, and her grateful people.
The last full measure of devotion is an awesome, terrible thing. Yet, magnificent; and it is upon the altar of their sacrafice that we enjoy the freedom of the greatest Nation in the history of the world.
Stand and salute, and remember them.
For our own sakes, and especially for theirs.
REMEMBER THEM!
Far too much time has passed since a cigar post has been featured here at Smoke on the Water. What!? You thought this blog was named for the song!? Think again!
Someone needs to buy out the nail salon that sits between the other two stores in the following picture.
And then put a liquor store in it's place. Now that would be a perfect Trifecta. How sweet it would be to go one-stop shopping for Alchohol, Tobacco and Firearms!
Coming from Houston's Reliant Center after enjoying the rather large gun show there, I ventured over to Richmond Avenue Cigars. Which convienently happens to be two doors down from the fabled Collector's Firearms.
Woe is me; I've already spent too much at the gun show, now I've leapt from the frying pan and have lit the fire on one helluva fine cigar. The Edge, which carries cigar legend Rocky Patel's name. A fine maduro wrapped cigar in the size he calles The Missle. It's a 5"x48 ga. product, which would usually bring it in as a short Corona, but for the torpedo-type taper at the head.
More on this fine cigar later, after I've smoked more than the first inch which I've quite enjoyed thus far.
I left this comment over at Bill Whittle's place, roughly, 'bout ten minutes ago:
Welcome back, from just one of the countless blogs you directly inspired.
Please accept my sincere thanks for all that your blog was then, and even the moreso for your return now.
The trite thing would be to say that the timing of your return is splendid, and not a moment too soon. Truth is though, the time is always right for your voice to be heard.
Always.
Welcome back. Hopefully, evermore.
Jim
Sloop New Dawn
Galveston, TX
I mean every word of that. If you're not familiar with Rachel Lucas, hie thee hence and go visit, and read.
Often.
Very often.
It'll be worth your time, or your money back!
So, Senators Kennedy and McCain come up with a pig of a plan which will by any measure, afford amnesty to some twenty million illegal soon-to-be-voters of the (d)emocrat ilk.
All, of course, blessed by a President who, having lost all semblence of what it is to be Conservative, now sells out the very Soverignty of the Nation he was elected to serve.
Indeed, now that the Republicans in the Senate have pulled the lever; as the Republicans in the house correspondingly begin the long and accellerating spiral aound the porcelain bowl of voter discontent, I now pause to offer a humble admonition from this insignificant blog.
The passage of this bill may well sound the very death-knell of the Republican Party.
Now, I don't mean the death of Conservatism. Fact is, this bill will also surely ignite a fire of passion for National Sovereignty and territorial security such as hasn't been seen since World War II. Which frankly, could be a good thing. By good, I don't mean happy, sunshine and light. I mean good in the following sense:
The Gospel of Mark, Chapter Eleven.
v. 15. And they come to Jerusalem: and Jesus went into the temple, and began to cast out them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the MONEYCHANGERS, and the seats of them that sold doves;
v.16. And would not suffer that any man should carry any vessel through the temple.
v.17. And he taught, saying unto them, Is it not written, My house shall be called of all nations the house of prayer? but ye have made it a den of thieves.
v.18. And the scribes and chief priests heard it, and sought how they might destroy him: for they feared him, because all the people was astonished at his doctrine.
The long-established leadership of the Republican Party has succumbed to the same virus which infects the left; the confusion between what is nice, and what is good.
Jesus was not nice to the moneychangers. I mean, flipping over their tables and chairs, laying down the Law, berating them even while teaching them the Hard and Honest Truth.... well, that just wasn't polite, now was it?
You might even say he hurt their feelings! He harmed their self esteem!
To liberals, deadly sins both. But, knowing that Christ was and is without sin, that just doesn't wash. So, what is the lesson here, after all?
What Jesus did was GOOD, which is a Biblical attribute of God. Niceness never figures in, unless you count that as an inclusive aspect of his longsuffering, mercy and forgiveness.
The Republicans in the Senate seem to be all wrapped up in Playing Nice. Which, in the case of immigration, just as in the case of moneychangers in the Temple, just isn't Good.
Funny allegory, that. Seems the moneychangers have just moved their operation from the Temple, to the halls of Congress.
Not good. Not good at all.
Somebody, get a whip.
Soon, please!
Kevin would disagree, but I really don't give a damn.
Not measured only by his prolific output of posts ranging from the pithy link to the epic dissertation, nor by the thousands upon thousands of comments on those twenty-four-hundred some-odd articles.
Instead, measured by the billions upon sheer billions of neurons fired in this most worthy of causes. Meausred by the hundreds of thousands of extraordinarily well reasearched and even more well-spoken words of the author.
Measured by the hundreds; maybe thousands, of individuals who've made the transition not only to citizen, but to Armed Citizen, due in no small part to the selfless efforts of (in my opinion) the man most tenacioiusly responsible for fighting the good fight.
Measured by Four Years of incredible dedication in the incessant struggle for:
The Right to Keep and Bear Arms.
I have no doubt, that one day, well into the indeterminate future, that Kevin's visage will take it's place among the Great Men of this Nation.
Thomas Paine lives forever as the firebrand pamphleteer who gave us Common Sense. Patrick Henry is immortal in our history for his bold challenge to the throne:
As a member of the Congress, Henry was an outspoken advocate of strong measures of resistance. At a meeting of the Virginia assembly (right) in Richmond on Mar. 23, 1775, he called on the colonists to arm themselves, with the words:" . . . as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!"
Soon after, he led the militia of Hanover to force Governor Dunmore to
surrender munitions belonging to the colony.
Our Nation was born of such men as Kevin Baker.
I have no doubt...... Absoultely no doubt whatsoever, that our Nation shall survive in no small part, due to Kevin's inspiration to many the freedom loving Patriot.
Count me to be numbered amongst them.
And to those who discovered their latent patriotism due to Mr. Baker's thoughts and words.
Count me in, Mister Baker. I shall be proud to stand the line by your side.
As any long time reader of Smoke on the Water would know, my cat Harley is not only the pride o' the fleet, but not only 'cause he's so damn good looking.
The big reason is, he's really the lovingest cat on the planet.
Now, in case you're wondering how to get your cat to also be so very affectionate and good natured?
Make sure they're brought up right.
When I die, I think I wanna come back as my cat.
salute to friend Dennis (Yellowlegs, USMC) for the kitten pic!
Well, that's where it was this past weekend.
The Blogmeet, that is.
After having been involved in the blogosphere since late '03, I finally managed to find my way to an actualy, by-golly Blogmeet. Now, I've met quite a few bloggers in the past few years, what with shooting events, hangin' with the DuToits and entertaining a few blog writers as they drifted through Galveston County on their journeys.
Met a few non-blogging blog readin' people, too. (Hi, Recondo & Georgia!) who made time to see me as they ventured from this adventure to the next.
So, as Iris and I rolled over the miles t'ween here and Kerrville, I had no doubt that we'd be meeting some good folks. Of course, I'd met Denny once at Kim's, and having written and yakked with him over the phone with some frequency, it wasn't a stretch to say I knew I'd have at least one friend a'waiting.
Well, I was wrong.
There were plenty of friends.....just ones I hadn't met yet!
That's been rectified, and in fine style let me hasten to say. And that style wasn't just 'cause we were at The Inn of the Hills in Kerrville, Texas....which is one of the most well-established, and yet still one of the very finest venues one could ever wish to visit. Being in such a lush and beautiful location provided the perfect backdrop to a meeting of a dozen or so expositors of the written word, all of whom give life to their thoughts via the keyboard and flying electron.
And what a mix of writers this was, varying from myself, a rabid gunbloggin', politic pickin', bourbon sippin and cigar ravin' cranky old keyboardist, all the way across the scale to a lady who personified the most genteel of spirits, lovingly tending to both her garden of plants, and her thoughts, harvested fresh to her screen.
Now, rather than me trying to write one-by-one profiles, (which from me, would probably not even resemble the real people involved), let me just point y'all to their own blogs, and you get to know 'em your own self.
I think if you do, you just might want to end up attending the next Blown Eyed Blodger roundup.
The Confabulator
Erica
Charming, Just Charming
Jerry
Walrilla
Hammer
Leslie's Omnibus
Nancy's Garden Spot
Parkway Rest Stop
Richie
Grouchy Old Cripple
Shoe
Tall Cool Drink O'Water
Update: You'd think that since I stole that list from El Capitain, that I'd at least have the good sense to have included him in my efforts?
You'd be wrong. Damn, sorry there Pirate....next time, put your own blog in your lists so when I steals 'em, I don't have to bemember quite so hard now, hear? shuffles off muttering to self..........
Like I said earlier. I am inded, truly honored to have met y'all!
Here's to next year!
Not a chance!
Lest I forget the BlownEyes, that is.
I enjoyed one helluva good blogmeet this past weekend, in Kerrville, Texas. And I had the pleasure...the distinct pleasure, of meeting a damn good buncha people I'd never met before, and more than a few blogs (and bloggers) new to me.
Believe me, I've got a lot of catching up to do, and lot of new blogs to get to know.
I'll post more on the blogmeet soon, but the previous post was one in the works for a while, and I wanted to get it tended to and posted before the topic grew stale. And now that that's done, I can (hopefully?) catch up with the tiny slivers of the blogosphere that my constrained time allows me to pursue.
But I am glad to........no, honored to have met some damned fine people in Kerrville.
The pleasure was mine, entirely.
Last week, Kim DuToit posted the rare bit with which I disagree.
On the subject of the carriage of handguns in Texas, Kim leans towards being against Open Carry.
"I know, I know: I’m generally not in favor of the precautionary principle when it comes to laws, because I believe that people, by and large, will tend to do the right rather than the wrong thing—and for those who do the wrong thing, we in Texas have excellent jails and a marked affection for the death penalty."
"But this is one situation where it seems to me that experience and common sense of ”a lot of assholes” rub up against the unfettered idealism of ”shall not be infringed”. The compromise (concealed carry) seems to be not an unreasonable one, under the circumstances."
Conversely, I strongly favor Open Carry. For several reasons.
First among these is that this is the basic, free excercise of an enumerated right under the Constitution. It is said that a right unexcercised is a right forfeited; which saying has more potential for truth as applied to the First and the Second Amendment than to perhaps any of the other eight of the original Bill of Rights.
That's just one reason. Another of course, is that our habitually unarmed friends and neighbors would benefit by being accustomed to being in the presence of armed, peaceable members of a free society. Another quote, this one from Heinlein: "An armed society is a polite society". And it is mostly true. Mostly. I suppose it's in the area's that aren't mostly experienced wherein the problems lie. But, as those are the exceptions and not the norm, I would greatly prefer that policy and law be cast in favor of the norm, i.e; the majority. The majority of the time, with the majority of the people, I trust that the calmative effect of the presence of a responsible citizen who is visibly armed would be of direct benefit to his circumstance, and society as a whole.
Now, Open Carry isn't without it's issues, and certainly the suitability of who might be so carrying is paramount amongst them. I can think of innumerable louts and miscreants who about as well suited to the responsibility of being an Armed Citizen as Rosie O'Pig is to teach construction stress-failure analysis. Which tends to parallel Kim's concerns.
Unlike Kim though, I suppose I approach the question with a more optimistic outlook regarding my fellow Texan. Which is why I diverge from Kim's suppositions regarding the reactions of the average Texan to an openly armed citizen; that is, once some form of Open Carry legislation were to wind it's way through the twist and turns of the Austin Statehouse, finding itself signed by the Governor and subsequently attaining the force of law.
As would be expected for me, I'm probably the last to comment on the delightful prospect of poor, spoiled liddle Paris Hilton having her seriously overexposed ass hauled off to the L.A. slammer.
Couldn't be helped. I was outta town attending a rather enjoyable meeting of bloggers up the road a' piece in Kerrville, Texas. Six hours each way is quite the jaunt. I'll write more on that in the days to come.
Having spun the rolodex of my blogroll a bit, I thought I'd set this up as a bit of a point-in-support to what friend LawDog so aptly wrote about regarding the trollop in question.
Her parents -- who expressed their opinions most firmly during the hearing, a kittenish act which usually results in getting escorted out of court and/or contempt charges -- feel most strongly that their daughter is being singled out because of who she is.
*snort*
They got that one right.
Seeing that the sleazier this young floozy of a lass gets, the more support she gets from her giddily rich parents. A viscious cycle, as it were....or in Paris' case, a vacuuous one.
So, though I agree with Officer Dog that indeed, young Miss Hilton has simply once again been reminded that she is to be treated differently.... better...than the rest of society, it's really hard to place all the blame squarely upon her all-too-often-naked shoulders.
[late Gov.Richards, on]
Poor Paris. She cain't hailp it. After all, she was born with a silver cock in her mouth!
[ /late Gov.Richards, off]
She best be thankful that LawDog wasn't the presiding judge over that particular courtroom. Same for her pathetically indulgent parents, for that matter.
But that sure would have been most entertaining for the rest of us, for damn sure!
Maybe next time, eh?
Haven't had a troll 'round here in ages. And where do you suppose trolls are storied to live?
Under bridges, of course! Guess the fire out in Oakland smoked this one outta his hole.
A few short days ago, the world was provided with an amazng public display of the effects of fire on steel, concrete and a structure comprised of these materials. And though that proof came in the form of a major disruption of a public thoroughfare, I'd posit that the temporary but terribly expensive loss of a highway overpass may have been a fair exchange for the public proof that indeed, fire melts steel.
In response to my post mocking Rosie O'Pig, a troll calling itself Healthy Skeptic dropped by in the comments, leaving this dreck.
Now presented for your reading pleasure, the UnHealthy Skeptic, and some very damn healthy bits of information for his ridiculously misinformed self.
"Concrete overpasses are not reinforced with the same hardened steel girders that were in the Twin Towers. Apples and oranges."
Well, if the overpass is the type made of post-tensioned beams which are precast offsite, and then transported by heavy transport to the construction location, then the troll would have a point.
Unfortunately for him, the bridge in the Oakland incident simply wasn't made of such modular beams.
No, sadly for our troll, the Oakland overpasses were made of steel "I" beams which drwarfed the steel girders used in the Twin Towers. The following photo is of a still-standing portion of the very Oakland overpass in question.
Peter DaSilva for The New York Times
A fiery pre-dawn tanker truck accident caused the collapse of heavily used freeway overpass near downtown Oakland early this morning.
Look at the beams which underlie the bridge deck itself, and note that they appear to be about six feet tall at the web, and I'd guesstimate they'd be roughly two feet, maybe thirty inches at the flanges of the beam.
I titled this Uncommon Sense for several reasons.
First, "Common Sense" is an overused phrase, descriptive of an underused charcteristic.
Second, because it's been a bit Uncommon, of late, for our vaunted Governor Goodhair to do or say all that many sensible things.
I mean, just consider his malfeasance regarding his (we knew they were bullshit all along) campaign promises to control the Texas~Mexico border, his championing of the Trans-Texas Corridor Great Texas Land Grab, his misguided, and terribly autocratic Executive Order directing the vaccination of young Texas women.
Not at all a sterling record of gubenatorial splendor, I'd say.
So, what did he to today that does make sense, you ask? I'm glad you asked.
Via Alphecca, we find this artcile in the Ft. Worth Star Telegram:
Perry said he opposes any concealed gun-toting restrictions at all — whether it’s in a hospital, a public school, a beer joint or even the local courthouse.
“The last time I checked, putting a sign up that says 'Don’t bring your weapons in here,' someone who has ill intent on their mind — they could care less," Perry told reporters. “I think it makes sense for Texans to be able to protect themselves from deranged individuals, whether they're in church or whether on a college campus or wherever."
As reporters began clicking off a list of places where concealed permit holders face restrictions, Perry cut off the questioning and made it clear that he meant anywhere at all.
Under current law, secured airport areas, hospitals, courthouses, bars, churches and schools are among the places where weapons are or can be banned, according to the Texas Department of Public Safety.
People entering federal courts in Texas are routinely required to leave even their cell phones behind.
“Let me cover it right here," Perry said. “I think a person ought to be able to carry their weapons with them anywhere in this state if they are licensed and they have gone through the training. The idea that you’re going to exempt them from a particular place is non-sense to me."
Damn straight, Gov!
Now then, the next step would be to see some intrepid Texas Legislator introduce these thoughts into a House or Senate bill, and run it through the legislative grinder, poste-haste.
And after that?
Open carry, naturally.
This is Texas, after all!
My guns don't have names.
That said, yesterday, Kim DuToit posted a request of his readers to write a bit about The .357 I Couldn't Do Without.
Like I said; my guns don't have names. But, there is one which holds the title of Utterly, Absolutely and Completely Irreplaceable.
My Smith & Wesson Model 28-2, Highway Patrolman. It is a .357 Magnum six-shot, with a four inch barrel.
The Highway Patrolman....no; my Highway Patrolman, is the anchor of my battery of arms. It is the gun which knows not failure or alibi. It simply works, each time and every time the finger asks it to work.
That it does so with the utmost in accuracy and tightness of action which is nothing short of astonishing, is testament to the workmanship executed in Massachussetts well over forty years ago. That the action cycles with the smoothness of oiled glass is testament to several hours of careful, painstaking work on my part one bright afternoon, almost exactly thirty years ago.
Blued in the dull polish which is the hallmark of this model, my Highway Patrolman is fitted with a set of Pachmyer Gripper Professional neoprene grips which seem to have been custom made just for me. The Model 28 used to be the issue arm of the Texas Department of Public Safety, and of many other State's Highway Patrols and countless municipal P.D.s nationwide. Based on the timeless "N" series frame, it features a S&W's superb double or single action mechanism, a traditional tapered barrel, an ejector-rod shroud and the excellent S&W adjustable sights.
Being an older "dash two" one finds not only a barrel pinned into place in the frame, but the counterbored chambers which were the hallmark many pre-1980s Smith & Wessons. The "N" frame's heritage goes clear back to the .45 ACP revolver of 1917. The Highway Patrolman draws not only on that fine point of origin, but is itself a less expensively produced version of what many consider THE pinnacle of Smith & Wesson excellence; the .357 Registered Magnum, which later became the exsquisite Model 27.
When I take hold of my .357, it becomes an extension of myself, balanced beyond perfection and aligning to with the eye and to the target as naturally as the act of looking itself.
In my hands, this .357 Magnum has won a dozen or so trophies, as well as the trophy of a Texas Hill Country whitetail doe, felled with one clean shot to the heart at forty-two measured yards. And, under more benign conditions, this .357 has felled an average of 4 out of 6 bowling pins, when fired over sandbags on a solid bench.
Twenty-five rounds, .38 spl, 148gr hollowbase wadcutter. One second per shot, double action, range; seven yards.
With factory-stock iron sights. At a full one hundred yards. That this was witnessed by Kim, Doc, Airboss and others at Area .45 remains a singular, fond memory which shall remain with me, always.
In my hands, this large revolver has twice been instrumental in prevailing in the very circumstances for which it was manufactured. And thankfully, the mere threat which was conveyed from the dark cyclops of the this Model 28's muzzle sufficed to resolve the matter, without need for the giant to have spoken aloud.
The first instance occured in days of yore, when I bore the badge for a small 'burb near San Antonio. That the second of these instances required disarming my older, and sadly felonious brother, does not lessen my appreciation for the effect that the dark muzzle and six bright 145 gr. Silvertips effects on the subjects thereof.
And it is with this .357 Magnum, that I am working even to this day to increase my skills in the area of speed, accuracy and repeatablity. Though I practice the same with my .45 Colt Commander, I know that if it should come that the chips are well and truly down, and when the shooting is for real.
It will be then, that I pray that I shall again have in my hand, my Smith and Wesson .357 Highway Patrolman.
Surely, my Smith & Wesson Model 28, Highway Patrolman, is The .357 I Couldn't Do Without.
Wasn't it only a few weeks back that Rosie O'Pig opened her stupid pie-hole on national teevee, and claimed something along the lines that "fire has never melted steel?"
Then explain this, you fat moronic sad excuse of a sentient being.
Firefighters investigate a crumbled section of freeway ramp which connects Interstate 80 to Interstate 580 in Oakland, Calif., after a tanker carrying gasoline exploded on Sunday, April 29, 2007. In the resulting blaze, a section of freeway that funnels traffic onto the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge collapsed. The truck's driver walked away from the scene and called a taxi, which took him to a nearby hospital with second-degree burns. (AP Photo/Ben Margot)
A section of freeway that funnels traffic off the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge collapsed early Sunday after a gasoline tanker truck overturned and caught fire beneath it, authorities said.
The heat was intense enough to melt part of the freeway and cause the collapse, but the truck's driver walked away from the scene with second-degree burns.
That's right, Rosie. A mere 8,800 gallons of ordinary gasoline, burning freely in the open air, between two freeway decks on an Oakland, CA freeway, generated enough heat to not only cause the concrete to harden, spall and separate, but to so soften the steel inside that concrete that it weakened to the point of collapse.
Softened, warped, bent, collapsed and yes, even in some places, melted. Melted steel, you stupid, vacuous bag of walking ignorance and hate!
The fire melted a second interchange from eastbound I-80 to eastbound I-580 located above the first interchange, causing a 250-yard section of the roadway to collapse onto the roadway below, according to the highway patrol.
In comparison, the Twin Towers fires easily generated at least the same amount of heat as the this morning's overpass fire in Oakland.
The reasons are evident to anyone who has ever worked with a forge or smelter.
Each of the Twin Towers became self-structured, thousand-foot tall chimneys, fueled not by only 8,800 gallons of gasoline, but by over ten times that quantity of Jet-A, just for starters. Add to this hundreds of thousands of tons of various combustibles such as carpets, papers, plastics and the like.
And finally, create a ferocious vertical airflow, just as a chimney, created by the steel and glass curtain walls of the Twin Towers.
When a chimney draft is thus created, the amount of oxygen being fed to the fire is not just the mere amount available at ambient atmospheric pressure. No, what occurs in this case is that the hurricane of updraft from the fire's heat convection creates a vacuum at the base of the chimney, thus sucking ever more air in, at higher and higher speeds as the heat and intensity of the fire increases. And correspondingly, the chimney quite literally spews the ejected smoke and heat from the top of the stack. Just as occurred in the Twin Towers.
It is in fact a viscious cycle; a perfect firestorm if you will. Which is why chimneys of all types have various dampers, ranging from the simple one in your home fireplace, to the complex baffles and controls of furnaces found at steel mills and the like. To prevent such a runaway scenario from happening.
I've no doubt that the fires in the Twin Towers were considerably hotter than today's Oakland Overpass fire.
Both fires melted steel and shattered concrete. Today's fire melted steel and shattered what little credibility that Rosie O'Pig might have purported to retain.
If this were to be properly publicised, today's fire should put paid to what little standing Rosie O'Pig might have held among even the blithering idiot class morning teevee viewership.
But then, that'd like waiting till pigs fly.
And Rosie's flying on a Gulfstream to worship at Al Gore's Church of Gaia just isn't the kind of flyin' pig I'm talking about, ifyaknowwhatimean.
We now return you to our normal programming.
Whoever this hit came from, I wish to offer my sincere thanks for being the three-hundred-thandandth hit on Smoke on the Water.
THANK YOU!
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Frankly, given the inconsistent manner of my posting over the past year and a half, the fact that I continue to have any traffic and readership at all, simply amazes me. But please do feel free to stay for more than "zero seconds". Seriously, there's nothing here to hurt the unsuspecting reader! *grin*
That said, do note that I am indeed, duly and humbly, thankful.
Now maybe, if I keep writing a bit, it won't take three and a half more years to hit the next few hundred thou?
The voyage, continues.
