New cigars, a project, and some other stuff.

First off, guess how I blew my Income Tax refund? Yep you guessed it, I went on a spree and picked up about four boxes of cigars, plus a few bundles on the side.



These here are some of the best of the batch. In fact, some of the best I've ever smoked.



Macanudo 1968s. The ones you see here are the smaller, 5x50 Robustos. I also got a box of 6x54 Toros. I originally found these at one of my local Humidors. They were sellin' these in various shapes and sizes, so I splurged and picked up a few of each. I found the taste to be better, richer and spicier than a regular Mac. I loved the taste, but the price made me gag. Ten or twelve bucks a piece, so I immediately started searchin' all my regular sites to see what they went for by the box.

I was amazed when I couldn't find them anywhere. None of my regular sources had these in stock. So I did a search and eventually found them at Arnold's Tobacco. The price is still high, compared to what I like to pay for a box of smokes, but these little puppies are worth it. Check them out if you find them somewhere, or just come by here. I can spare a few.

The other smokes I picked up came from a Cigars International catalog that I'd been carryin' around, the pages folded over, for months. From that I ordered some Macanudo Gold Label Duke of Yorks and some Majesty Cafes. I also was in the mood to experiment. They always have a few pages of cigars that are offered, 5 smokes for twenty bucks. So I ordered some Hoyo de Monterrey Excalibur Legends (red labels), Excalibur Dark Knight 1066s, and some Drew Estate Tabac Especials. So far, they've all been good smokes, but the Excalibur Legends have turned out to be the strongest contender. I smoke one of those puppies on the way to work, it lasts the full hour and ten minutes and when I get out of the car I'm friggin' dizzy. Love it.



I've also been engaged in a little repro job of late. I mentioned this briefly a few posts ago. My buddy Waters finally broke down under peer pressure and got himself a Kalashnikov. Yep, it was the election. I tell ya, that pencil necked fucker has sold more guns in the last 100 days than any other president. And yet, somehow, that little achievement is lost from all the lists of his great works we're hearin' about lately. I wonder why?

Anyway, Waters, knowing my level of expertise on these toys, engaged me to rebuild his Romanian gun to make it look like a Russian (Soviet) AKM from the 1960s. You see some of the parts in the shot above. I just happened to have the wood, much of it Russian made, and a few other parts, so than now he's got the gun he wanted. Then, all the drama with the AR-15s ensued, but we're cool with that. I'm keepin' my new toy and he's talkin' about tradin' his extra gun for one of those new M-4 clones. Now, that'd be cool as hell to have! Mmmm, it's payday.....

Anyway, a week or so ago, the Monday after the Jimmie Vaughan concert in Austin at Antone's, I was headed to San Saba and guess what I found along the way?



Turns out they'd had a hot rod show in town that same weekend, and one of the cars was on it's way north, zippin' up 183 just as I was on my way to work. I wish I'd been able to get a shot of the front of the thing. It was cool as hell. Reminded me of one of the cars that used to show up now and then in The Munsters.

About the same time, early last week, there was an accident on the bridge where 190 crosses the Lampassas River into San Saba county. An 18-wheeler turned over and burned, shuttin' the bridge down. I don't think anyone was hurt, but the bridge was out for a day. That means I had to drive WAY out of my way, detouring through Bend Texas, near Colorado Bend State park. Taking 580 or 581 means lots of twisty, turny road where you've got to drive 35 or 40 goin' around a curve so as not to end up in a ditch. And your chances of getting stuck behind some poky farmer are multiplied ten fold. Oh, I was stretchin' it. Slid the front wheels for a second on one curve, but I made it to work alive, fifteen minutes late!



Thankfully, they had the bridge open the next day, or I'd be hatin' life. Takin' that twisty detour through BFE each day would have been friggin' miserable.



Late last week I got this shot of a sunset over San Saba while I was drivin' home. I looked out over my shoulder and there she was, pretty as could be. So I turned around a went back for the shot. You can see a few others I took here.



Finally, the other thing I blew my refund on was concert tickets. The two on top cost me about $550, but they'll be worth it. Up front and to the side. Full view of the glorious noise. The Trower tickets were about $100 a piece. No big deal. Up front balcony seats at the House of Blues. Both gig's will be in Dallas in June. Denise and I will have a great time.

The other tickets I got are to a show in October, so the tickets have yet to be sent out. That will be an Allman Brothers show in Dallas at the outdoor arena there in Fair Park. My buddy Glen and I will drive up for that one (he's the guy I went to see Derek Trucks with a while back). Denise isn't into the Allman Brothers. Something about Greg Allman. Not sure, but it won't spoil my fun. I've never seen them before, so I can hardly wait.

Anyway, this weekend we'll try to relax and get some yard work done. maybe the rain will intervene and I'll be forced to lay around instead. You guys have a great weekend. Cheers!

This is pretty cool. Canadians in Afghanistan. Dig it.

Pretty cool footage. I get a big kick out if watching them shoot those AT-4s and RPGs, and the Afghan dudes raising their Kalashnikovs over the walls and sprayin' lead. It looks like a lot of fun. Ok, I know they're pissin' their pants and somebodies dyin', but it LOOKS like a huge load of fun from here. They look just like yanks, till the end when the one dude starts talkin', pronouncing the words "rounded" and "house".

If I'd been a bit more mature at the time, I think I would have gotten a huge enjoyment as a kid at being in the military and blowing shit up for a living. But when I was the right age to go in, I was basically a big baby. Mama's boy, big time. Hell, I'm still a big mama's boy. Ask anybody. Maybe joining up would have matured me. Don't know. I think I probably would have snapped like the dude in Full Metal Jacket, but maybe not. At the time I figured I'd just gotten out of high school, which was filled with assholes who tried to push me around, and joining the military would just put me back in the ring for another four years. I didn't have a lot of confidence. If I'd known then what I know now, about taking care of myself, and dealing with retrograde assholes, and a lot of other things, I think I would have had a great time.

As I get older, hearing the stories told by other older guys who served in one capacity or another, it seems clear that serving was the defining experience that a few generations of guys in America had in common. I work with guys on the base who are almost all vets, from Vietnam and Korea, as well as our various other "police actions". It seems from listening to their stories, whether they were drafted or volunteered, serving was their Sun Dance ceremony, ritually bringing them to adulthood and manhood. Of course, most men in the country never had to serve, but our literature and movies would seem to indicate that by avoiding it, they've missed out on something profound. Something that allows one to discover deeper things about oneself, as you usually do when you are tested. I guess I'm saying that I'm afraid that I've missed out on something profound by avoiding the test.

Beyond that, I think it can become a problem when the nations population becomes increasingly divided between those who have served and those who haven't, and who don't understand the military. There seems to be a disconnect now between the men and women and their families who volunteer to serve, and much of the rest of the population. There seems to be a large number of people who think the soldiers are just dropouts who can't keep a real job, or poor people who have no other way of getting an education, or adolescent war lovers who just want to blow something up.

People don't realize what a professional soldier is, and what his or her family goes through to stick with it. People think it's all about free college and meds and a fat retirement check. I've been around it all my life, and I've seen each service up close. Spent the first half of my life as an Air Force brat, living on or around air bases around the world. Then I spent four years "boating" with the Navy and Marines, teaching college classes on the ships. Now I'm about 12 years into a gig teaching soldiers on a huge army base here in Texas. I've seen them deal with all kinds of real shit up close. Hell, even some of the kids down in Florence are Army brats, with parents serving overseas.

Over the space of time that I've been here, I've seen them deploy, and come back from deployments, only to be told they have to go again. I've seen them deal with everything from being alone during pregnancy, to messages from the other side of the world telling them that their spouse, uncle, or father has been killed in action. I saw people die in training accidents on the ships; a whole helicopter full of Marines once, and another Marine once, run over and killed by a truck on a landing ship. It busted loose from it's chains and ran him over in the well deck as others jumped out of the way. he just wasn't quick enough. Imagine finding out that your son died during peace time, run over by a truck on a ship, in the middle of the Persian Gulf.

One of the last ships I taught on was the USS Arleigh Burke, a new kind of destroyer that was designed to be more stealthy, with a very cool radar system and lots of missiles. We floated along in the Mediterranean, serving in the battle group that was supporting the USS Theodore Roosevelt. Once in the middle of the night, a sailor was blown off the carrier by jet wash. We searched all through the night and into the morning, but all they found were bits of his gear, and vary large sharks swimming around. Hell, he probably died from the fall.

Kids die here at Ft. Hood all the time, in training accidents, helicopter crashes, and driving to and from the base. They call the main highway to and from Austin The Highway Of Death, for that very reason. It's dangerous shit, being a warrior, even at home, and even between the wars. We hear how many have died in Iraq, but that number pales when compared to the number who die just going to work every day.

So when I see a video like this one, I see the professionalism of these guys and it gives me a huge charge. They know their shit, and they can only succeed if the assholes back here will get out of their way. As in Vietnam, they're so good at what they do, so well trained, they can only be defeated by their own side, and their own leaders, or a shitty battle plan or strategy. I think it would have been a blast serving in that sort of fraternity. Band of brothers, and all that stuff, but it wasn't in the cards.

Once, on a summer road trip up to Ohio to visit the Air Force Museum, the family drove through Ft. Knox, Kentucky. Mom and dad wanted to see the gold depository, but I was dying to check out the Patton Museum and all the tanks. LOVE tanks. Dad knew I had fantasies about serving in one, and worked on me to discourage the idea. He told me as we were driving through the base to look at all the enlisted guys sweeping and mowing and picking up garbage and getting yelled at. He knew how much I enjoyed that sort of shit around the house. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps.

I tried it out for a while. Two years of Air Force ROTC in college. Got sick of what seemed like the fakeness and politics of it, marching in the parking lot at TCU one day a week and playing soldier. Watching a few guys get ahead by kissing the ass of the detachment commander, as if they were grooming themselves to one day serve as staff twerps for some general. I think I realized that my dads Air Force, the seat-of-the-pants, Curtis Lemay Air Force of all my fathers great stories, really didn't exist any more. I found out that my eyes were going bad in the second year, and pilot training was out. Had ideas about flying an A-10. Blow up tanks if I can't be in one. But the eyes changed all that. They started telling me I could be a navigator, or I could be a commissary officer. None of that sounded as good to me at the time. I decided in stead to take a different path, and decades later, here I am.

I've been around the military all my life. Got to fly in a few of their planes, float around on a few of their ships, and found a way to have a great time, without having to put up with the crap. But I still have moments when I hear guys telling hilarious stories, or harrowing stories, and I find myself filled with envy, and think about what might have been. I probably should stop doing that.

Check this out.

Ok, I've never heard anyone say the war in Afghanistan is over. And fuck Pakistan! Who the hell would ever waste the lives of their young men trying to conquer those smelly retarded bastards? if you rag heads would stay on your side of the border there wouldn't be an issue. They're still livin' in the same mud huts that Alexander the Greats men pissed on. And the idea that they can never be defeated because they're spending all their time copying technology other people invented? Uh, right. Whatever. "Pure evil in my hand", when he's handling the Luger? What a pussy! You know something dude, without that Kalashnikov, you're not worth the powder it would take to cleanse the planet of your whole kind. Having said all that, I'll tell ya what. If there is ever peace in that part of the world, and they ever have tours up there to the tribal gun markets, my ass is on the fuckin' buss. That shit looks fun as hell.

Just a little live fire training in Iraq.

First, go to the Brown Valley Kingdom and read an excellent post on the May Day protests. He lays it out better than I could ever do.

Now, dig this little video showing some serious training in Iraq. Something tells me these are private security guards, and NOT the regular army. It's piss your pants time, seriously.



A South African instructor, getting a guy ready for what it's like in actual combat. Man, I get stressed just watchin' it.

I think this has something for the whole family.

Ok, It's a friggin' CRIME to wreck an old TA like that. Criminal!

Gonna have dinner with dad again tonight, and now that the snow has melted we've added a new wrinkle to our normal Friday routine. Before we go to the Chinese food place, we go to the local driving range. He watches me as I hit a bucket of balls, and he hits a few and gives me little lessons and hints to help my swing. After that, having worked up and appetite (like that's necessary) we go hit the buffet line.

Dad was a huge golfer when I was growing up and he's wanted to get me to like the game ever since I can remember. He was taught to play in Germany right after WW2. He says this German POW showed him how to hit correctly in a large derelict opera hall. It was a rich mans game back then, and I think my dad, the son of a tenant framer, saw golf, and being an Army officer (eventually in the Air Force) as a path out of his old life. He became a shark on the golf course, and played all the time, as long as I can remember. He made me a cut down driver when I was very little, and still tells me and everyone else that I had a natural swing when I was a kid. I don't know. I never have felt comfortable in that swing. Can't feel it well enough to be able to feel like I know what I'm doing, if you know what I mean.

I was always more into archery as a kid. Used to watch all those old movies about medieval times, and always wanted to be Robin Hood, or the guy shooting arrows out of the arrow loops in the castle, or the guy in the formation at Agincourt, shooting arrows up into the air into the French army formations. When we moved to Missouri in 1970 I found other kids there who loved it too, and we'd shoot arrows into anything. That place was paradisaical. We'd stand at one end of the field that stretched out through and connected averyone's back yard and shoot arrows into the air, just to watch them fly and see how far they'd go. There was an old tree in the woods there that we'd shoot arrows into, rotted and missing half it's bark.

We got a huge amount of enjoyment out of walking down the trail, pretending to be surprised by a bear or something, and then shooting arrows into that old tree. They would always make a cool thud as they hit it. We'd cross over the creek and pull them out, and then go through the ritual again. We called it the elephant tree. I think I'd seen an illustration in National Geographic showing Alexander the Great defeating the Indian Army elephants by filling them with arrows. That Image is still in my head.

Never forget looking at my first issue of Bowhunter magazine, picked up at the local T.G.& Y., and seeing that there was a world out there where adults shot arrows, and it wasn't silly kids stuff, as my folks always seemed to think. We moved away from that house and into base housing before we moved back to Texas, and mom and dad told me that I couldn't have the bows and arrows on the base. It all had to be put away. Seems like they were always tryin' to get me to do that. They didn't value it, and saw it as kids stuff. Wanted me to give it up and grow up and play football or somethin'. I don't think the gear made it into the moving van. It was like closing a book on a huge part of my childhood.

Next time I picked up a bow was about five years later in San Antonio. I tried to shoot someone else's arrow into a neighbors tree only about 10 yards away, a shot that I would have easily been able to make earlier, and I missed it. Shocked the hell out of me. I guess I accepted that it was over then. There weren't any woods to play in there, and I'd lost whatever talent I'd had, but dad was still there wanting me to play golf with him. Maybe refusing was my way of getting back at him, or my way of differentiating myself from him. Same thing went with other sports too. He never could get me interested in anything, and I could never get them to take anything I loved seriously. You'd think I was switched at birth or something.

I finally relented and started playing golf back in the late 1980s while I was in graduate school and worked at the Colonial Country Club in Ft. Worth. Most of the other employees played, and they got to play the course once a year. I guess I picked up the interest vicariously, listening to them talk around the club, wanting to be included and play the club myself. Dad was beside himself. He made me a set of clubs and I started practicing and playing. Loved it, but never got too good at it. Then, when I got the job teaching on the ships, and was gone all the time, I never had a chance to practice. When I did play, I was always loosing balls and feeling like an idiot when I hit a lousy shot. Never seemed to take to it the way I did archery as a kid. Never became easy and effortless the way archery had. It sucks too, because it's no longer a rich mans game. Hell, everyone plays golf now.

Anyway, Dads old as hell now and can't hit the ball very far anymore. Depresses the hell out of him, but he's always asking me when we're gonna go hit some balls. For a long time I'd think to myself "How many times did you take me to shoot arrows, you old jackass? When did you ever show interest in anything I wanted to do?" But he's old as hell now, and it seems wrong to be petty about it, to hold the crap from the past against him. so I finally decided a few weeks ago to start taking him to the range, incorporating it into our Friday routine. Weather permitting, we'll go out there and I'll let him give me hints. I doubt that I'll learn anything, but he'll enjoy it, and that's what matters now.

I'm also supposed to go shooting (guns) this weekend in Gatesville, so I'll be able to sight in the new .22 rifle and maybe shoot Civil War muskets. I've evolved from arrows to bullets (another thing my dad's not into), but I still have archery in my blood. One of these days I'll post pictures of the sets I've built. It's a fun hobby now and then, when I'm not busy with other things. So, enjoy your Friday and take care of yourselves. Ya know I will.

I think the oldest diplomatic notion is "the enemy of my enemy is my friend". Lets hope it works.

Lets hope our new pacifist congress gives it a chance to work.

Update to the update: Well, It's Good Friday, but isn't every Friday good?

I never met a bad one. Don't have to go in to school this morning, or Monday morning ether. So much for separation of church and state down at the old high school. They have a few free days they can take off, so they use them to take religious holidays. But then, I can remember back when Spring Break was Easter Break, so it doesn't bother me. Hell, I'll use any excuse to take a day off, or in this case, sleep in and relax. I still have to go in to the base and teach at lunch time, but what can you do?

Between the morning classes, the lunch time classes, the afternoon feed and post-feed naps, and the evening classes (not to mention the two online classes), I've really turned into a lazy lump of weak shit lately. You've probably noticed that, what with all the easy YouTube posts. The house is a mess. I've got clothes and sheets in a pile on the dryer, clean but wadded up. The clean dishes are still in the dish washer, dirty ones in the sink. My fish are swimmin' in their own filth, but then again that's sort of what they always do.

Aside from a few Bluebonnets poppin' up here and there, the yard is a veritable weed farm. Thistles all over the back yard. I swear, I spray poison every year, and the fuckers just come back stronger. The last few weekends were wet as hell, so I could avoid going out there and spending the time crawling around with a screw driver, but it looks like this weekend is gonna be the time. God, I dread the shit out of it. No gun shows this weekend, so I guess I'll get it done.

I had to buy new tires this week, and it's amazing how much better the Solara rides when it's not on bald, mismatched crap. I had to have my home air conditioner serviced today too. I have to do it at about this time every year. As soon as the temps get warmer I start hearing the ice building up and then falling off the unit in the wall. Have a few slow leaks in the coils, but as it is, all I have to do is get the coolant refilled once a year. Hard to justify the expense of getting the whole thing replaced at this point. So, between this and that, I've been hemorrhaging money lately. Funny how it always feels easier and more fun to do that at a gun show.

Still haven't got the scabbard for my neighbors old knife. Ordered it almost 10 days ago and they were supposed to send it express. Emailed 'em yesterday sayin' "What the fuck?" Haven't heard back yet. Had a project of my own over the last week. Picked up a new toy in Ft. Worth last Saturday. Got a WASR-22, a Romanian semi-auto training rifle. It's basically a Romanian version of an East German training rifle. An AKM that shoots .22LR from a 10 rnd clip. It came out of the box lookin' like this...



And after a few days tinkering in the geeeraj...



New AK-74 front sight post and muzzle break (bayonet lugs ground over), new laminated wood and plum colored plastic furniture, and a cool modification on the original Romanian (Romak) butt stock. All replacement parts are US made, so it's kosher. Picked up a box of .22LR at Wally World, so I'll probably take it out to the property this weekend and do some plinkin'. I've read in reports that the action doesn't eject the spent cartridges so reliably, but I'll see about that. Should be a fun toy to tinker with anyway.

Wait a second, wasn't I supposed to pull weeds this weekend? Hahahahahahaha. Fools. There's ALWAYS time for plinkin'. Anyway, Jesus, it's a holiday. I'll be takin' dad to eat Chinese food tonight, and then we'll see what happens. Have a great weekend yerself, and have a great Easter. Should be lots of cool old bible epics on TV to watch, and great food to eat. Lots of layin' around time. DAMN THOSE WEEDS!

And by the way, If you want a good read this weekend, check this out. He says it like it is.
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Update: Well, I took the rifle out to my land south of town after school and shot one clips worth of shells, just to see how the thing works, and it works fine. Only problem I had was one round that bent and got hung up in the action. I took it out, straitened it with my fingers, shoved it forcefully in the action, and it shot and ejected just like the others. I'd heard that the rounds didn't eject all the time, but got caught up in the action, but I didn't experience this. Again, only one clips worth, but it worked fine and I can't wait to take it to a range and sight it in. Love the whip crack sound of those .22LRs.

I took dad to the driving range, and then we did the usual Friday night feed. When I got home, I looked in the mail box and there was a package. Mission accomplished! (look here for details on the mission).



The sheath finally arrived. I checked it out, put the knife in it's new home, and took it over to my neighbor. He was pleased. We talked about hanging it on his wall next to his medals, and his wife said that was a good idea. She said something about having a shiv on the wall, but we both outvoted her, I think. We'll see what happens. I wouldn't take any money from them. Told them it was my pleasure. I got a huge kick out of having it and learning about it. Now I'm gonna see about getting myself one. Saw one in Ft. Worth last weekend, but the dude wanted $250 for it. Not worth that much to me. Think I can make a much better deal elsewhere.

Anyway, the weather has turned cold and windy, and there's talk of colder temps and snow in Oklahoma tonight, so we may in fact be experiencing Global Warming after all. Sheeeeeitttt!
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Oh, and here's what the new baby looks like with the East German scope attached. Yep, it's got a scope rail on the left side, like all the other Romanian AKs on the market.



Notice I changed out the wooden foregrip with plum plastic, to match the undergrip. Love it!

Checkin' my home page, I found an interesting little bit of slander; an article by a history prof and huge fan of U.S. v. Miller (1939).

Go here and read his article. He thinks that the new Parker decision is bad law, and that it unjustifiably overturns 70 years of legal doctrine viewing the second amendment protections as a collective right, asserting in stead that it is an individual right. I welcome you to register over at the History News Network and leave a few comments. I did.

I won't belabour you with the whole comment stream. You can look at it and read it for yourself. By the time I got there, several pro gun types (were everywhere) had left critical comments. One defender of the author then chimed in, saying that it's silly to assert that the framers wanted people to be armed so that they would be able to defend themselves against their own government.

He's commenting on a previous commenter's point, that without an armed citizenry, "...there is no counterweight to Federal military might." He responds...

Yes there is. It's called the Congress's power to declare war and fund and raise and army versus the president as commander in chief. Read your Constitution.

The 2nd Amendment is there because Americans had traditionally feared standing armies, meaning the British army. Thus the basis of our national defense was the militia. It has nothing to do with being a counter to the federal government.

And then I chime in...

"Please, the congress WAS the national government in the 1790s when the bill was drafted. The executive was a glorified clerk, and congress was our parliament, and we had just fought a long and very bloody war against a parliament. The people of the states had been able to do that because they were armed. In the light of this, it seems obvious that the founders understood this to be a basic right of any free people. How could they use arms to overthrow a government and then assert that only a branch of government, a national army (made up of state militias), should be allowed to bear arms? They wanted to be able to retain the ability in their local settings, to protect themselves from the possible (they believed probable) misuse of government power, as well as desiring the right to defend themselves in a nation with NO POLICE OR STANDING ARMY. Why is it so hard to understand? People today who own guns, including assault rifles, don't see themselves as a problem. The problem is Liberal lawyers and gun control advocates who read the exact same words ("The right of the people")in the first, second and fourth amendments, and magically decide that in the one case of the second amendment, the words weren't meant to protect the rights of individual people. That's very convenient logic, if your desire is to empower the national government and restrict peoples rights."

So what do you think about all this.? You know I'm a gun nut, but I have an open mind. Can you find a way to convince me that I should turn in my Kalashnikovs? I dare ya. I double dare ya. I tripple dog dare ya.

Started a new semester yesterday, after a good week off and a very pleasant weekend.

I started four new classes on base this week, as well as a new online class. I've got about 45 people in each of my lunchtime history classes (11:30-12:30 and 12:30-1:30 every day), with more wanting in them every day, and I've got about 30 to 35 people in each of the two government classes in the evening (7:30 to 10pm M/W and T/Th). A lot of the folks in my lunchtime classes took the other half of the history last time and are back again. It was like old home week when I walked in the first day. Lots of laughs. Most of my students are soldiers or retired soldiers or family/dependants. The online class has only 17 people in it, but it might grow. I'll be working on that one this week, trying to come up with new exams. I may eventually use those new exams in the conventional classes too. Spring them on the folks in the evening classes on base. I LOVE test day!

Anyway, this last Spring Break was a great time off. It started with two nights and good times at Sweetwater.



That was a great trip, with great friends and lots of great food.

Then on Wednesday, I took a trip to Ft. Worth to spend the day and have dinner with some other, older friends. I've known this guy for about 20 years, and his wife since they got together about 15 years ago.



We've been on a dozen or so hiking and/or canoe trips, and these are the folks I rafted the Colorado with in 03 and 05. Click on the link over at FlickR to check out more of those shots.

The week was rounded off with a fabulous Sunday, beginning with a trip in the morning to Austin to walk through a gun show (resulting in the acquisition of a new toy), and then a trip up to Temple to eat southern fried chicken and home made peach ice cream at moms, and ended with two awesome episodes of Rome back to back on HBO at my sisters place in Belton. That was a full day.

I walked into the gun show thinking it was about time for somethin' to happen. I was officially designated as legal and dangerous by the great state of Texas a while back, but I had yet to pop the cherry on the old CHP card. I needed to get it over with. The main reason why I wanted one of these things is because it allows the holder to buy new toys without having to go through a potentially tedious background check every time. You're considered preapproved due to the check they do on you before they give you the card. It makes for a very convenient purchasing experience, so I was lookin' forward to my first time.

I walked into the place and found an old guy I'd bought several things from in the past. He's always situated with his table right there at the door. He builds very nice rifles from a mixture of foreign and American made parts. His manufacturing standards are high, and his stuff usually includes things that you don't necessarily find elsewhere. He also has a cute little pug dog that he brings up to the shows from Houston. It snoozes there on a pillow under the table. I grew up with pugs, so it's sometimes hard to tell whether I'm more excited to see the pooch or the firepower.

Anyway, it's cool when you find what you want right off the bat and then get to walk through the place for an hour and see if you can come up with anything better. The excitement builds to a crescendo. I walked by, got his attention and pointed to one rifle, saying "don't sell that one till I get back". He smiled and nodded in recognition, then turned back to his other customer as I walked on.

I walked out of there about 30 minutes later with a bright, shiny new M 70 (Yugoslavian version of the AKM, built on an American receiver).



It has a thicker receiver giving it a more sturdy shooting platform. Early AK-47s had milled receivers (like an SKS), and were steadier and more accurate shooters. A normal late model AK has a stamped receiver, and many have a problem with the receiver warping during sustained firing. This one doesn't do that quite as much because the receiver wall is thicker, and so it has a reputation for being a more accurate shooter. I just think they're cool as hell, and I've wanted one for a while. Many of the ones I've seen on the market have been thrown together imports or ridiculously expensive pre-ban guns. This one was the best of both worlds; well built and affordable. Couldn't believe my good fortune. I threw it in the trunk and zipped back up north towards home, giddy like a little girl.

I stopped briefly at Rudy's BBQ in Roundrock to pick up some Jalapeno sausage and creamed corn. Mmmmmm! I'll eat off that stuff all week long. I needed to be at Mom's by 3:30 so I could put the Ice cream maker together and get it started. Mom makes the cream and then gets me to taste it to see if it is sweet enough.



She pours it into the cylinder, which I then place in the wooden bucket. I attach the motor, pour in the ice and rock salt, and set the thing to turning, refilling the ice and salt as needed.

The routine for doing this is probably in my DNA. I remember when I was a kid and my job was to sit on the thing while my dad cranked it. It was a sign of growing up when I shifted to cranking and took over that job. It was SO COOL when they put a motor on that bastard. The ice cream tastes just as good without the sore arm. Mom's chicken is famous with everyone I know. Has been for as long as I can remember (you may need to put some sort of plastic sheeting over your keyboard to ketch the drool from looking at these pictures... fair warning).



She's got it down to a science. It's actually amazingly easy to make, but it never tastes like moms when I do it myself. What can you say. After about 20 minutes, the ice cream maker shuts down, indicating that the ice cream is frozen, and I bust it open, lift the cylinder up out of the ice, and parcel out the portions.



I've inherited all these duties from dad, who sits back now and waits for his plate. Mom gets the first plate, of course, and dad is second.



He sits in his TV chair and usually feeds a bit of chicken to one of the cats. Their new dog now gets her share along with the others. He's a pushover. Don't know where this guy came from, 'cause the guy that raised me was a cold hearted son-of-a-bitch. I guess we all mellow with time. Sis gets the third plate, and I get the last. There's a method to this madness. Just in case yer thinkin' "Aw, what a nice guy", it turns out the sweetest ice cream is always in the bottom of the bowl. It just so happens. Total coincidence.

After everyone's had their fill, I start the dishes soaking in the sink...



And then its relax, maybe nap, loosen the belt and let the belly expand. The queen retires to her easy chair, and I eventually drive home with my share of the spoils.



A good time was had by all. At one point in the process I was talking with sis about the two upcoming episodes of Rome. She said that we'd probably get to see Mark Antony in the buff, suckin' on a huka (she has the hots for James Purefoy).



I said, innocently, that we'll probably also get to see him fall on his sword. She erupted in outrage. How dare I spoil it for her. I'm like, "didn't you see that movie a dozen times?" I don't think you can really be accused of divulging things that should be common fuckin' knowledge. Jebus, you silly cow. Read a book sometime.

We watched the two episodes back to back, and it was as good as I was expecting it would be. Can't wait for the end, but hate to see it come. I think about how they could continue the series and show us their HBO version of the whole Julian drama. But that's already been done so well in the old BBC series I, Claudius, so I doubt they'll go there.



Too bad. It would be fun to watch our two boys get old and live through some cool history.

Well, that was my week. Now the grind has begun again. It looks like rain all week, and I'm desperately needing to pull weeds and do laundry. And yet here I sit. Well It's late, and it all starts again early in the morning, so enjoy the read, and don't slobber too much on yerself lookin' at the food. Later.

Went up to Gatesville today to shoot again with a buddy.

Last time I went up there was in January. This time it was just Dave and I, and the pooch. I took a few things up there to shoot, including one rifle that I've modified myself (click these for higher res. shots).



On the left, a Romanian 5.45x39 that I rebuilt with a new gas block and sling loop (from a late model East German AKM), a Bulgarian front sight post, and an East German muzzle break. It's also got Russian plumb colored furniture. It's being rebuilt to resemble a very early model AK-74 from the mid 1970s, and it's about 80% finished. When the Russians began adopting this heat resistant plastic furniture, getting away from the laminated wood they'd used since the late 40s, they adopted this plumb color. I like it a lot.

In the center is the same Hungarian AKMS, shooting 7.62x39, that I had back in January, only I've switched out the furniture since then. I replaced the solid Hungarian wooden grips with a refinished laminated Polish lower and a Russian upper, and a plastic pistol grip. I think it's more attractive set up this way. On the right is the same Polish Tantal that I shot in January. There had been an issue with it when I shot it before. Every time I shot it I had to push the trigger forward again with my finger. Turns out my gunsmith had forgot to reset a spring when he was putting it together. I reset the spring after talking to him, and wanted to test it out again. It also shoots 5.45x39.



Dave decided to shoot some antiques. He's into old stuff. The long gun is a Winchester 73, made in the 1880s. the revolver on the left is a .44-40 single action (same caliber and dates as the rifle).



The one on the right is a Ruger .44 Magnum made in the 1960s. We set up targets and started plinkin' away from about 100 yards.



We worked on our own targets, and then switched off rifles.



His groups are a lot tighter than mine. He's been doin' this sort of thing a lot longer and has a steadier hand.



I'm too shaky to be a real marksman, but I killed the shit outta the target at this range. They'd a been bleedin' bad. It was easy to tell the different holes made by the different guns. That .44-40 made BIG holes. 5.45x39 is like a .22 (it's Russia's version of our .223). Anyway, mine aren't really designed for marksmanship. More for sprayin' lead. Maybe one of these days I'll try that little modification, but I never said that.



This time the dog stayed with us, but kept her distance when the revolvers came out. You remember, last time she took refuge in the truck and slobbered all over the gear shift. We remembered to close the truck door this time.

On the way back to Dave's house, he stopped at a barn and said "You might like some of these". He reached into a dusty, dilapidated box and pulled out belted .50 and .30-06 blanks.



DAMN, was all I could say to that! A buddy of his found them on a hunting trip years ago, abandoned on the side of a trail on Ft. Hood. They're dated to the 1980s. Couldn't believe it.



Dave's house is like a museum. His upstairs is unfinished, and he's got his collection of 18th and 19th century guns on the walls. Most are authentic, but a few are reproductions.



He's a Civil War and Mexican War reenactor, and a pack rat to boot.



His sympathies lie to the southern side of things, where he's traced his ancestors. He knows which battles they fought in and where a few died. Makes it a bit more personal I guess. I joke with him from time to time, calling it "the war of the rebellion". That usually gets a "Hey!"

Anyway, after we shot we went to town and got some BBQ, and then I drove home. It was a nice Saturday afternoon on a beautiful day. Hope all of your Saturdays were as fun.

So, it's a hot weekend. Yer at a pool party at a buddy's house, and someone gets a really stupid idea.

This is all about trust. Trust, and alcohol. How drunk would you need to be?



And you may have seen this before. It's been goin' around. Too damn funny not to post. Enjoy.



So, I'm heading to the little town of Sweetwater, Texas this weekend. They're having a combined chili cook-off, rattlesnake roundup, carnival, and gun show. Now folks, what the hell else do you need?

Ok, get yer minds out of the gutter. I'm sure I'll be able to round THAT up if needs must. Chili cook-off folks...



are notoriously open minded, horny as hell, and easily plied with small amounts of booze... or so I hear. And if that doesn't work, there's always the carnival folks. Shiny objects and booze? I understand that it works. Many a marriage has been based on less.

A few friends will be competing in the cook-off, and I'll be eating copious amounts of BBQ, and maybe judging the competition. Can you say ringer? Might even eat some BBQ roasted rattlesnake. It ain't bad. Weather looks like it'll be nice; 70s in the day time and 40s at night. Perfect camping weather. I might even get to buy a new toy at the gun show. If the ninjas of the nanny state have their way, I'm sure these sorts of shows will soon be a thing of the past, so why not splurge?

I'll have an early out at the high school tomorrow morning, and then I'm off from there for a week of spring break. On the way back to town to get ready to head to Sweetwater, I'll spend a while at the local veterans cemetery. An old buddy of mine, Bobby Spence, passed away this week. He was one of the attendants in the building on base that I teach out of. Known him for years. Great guy. Army vet. Korea and Nam, I think. Supposedly his wife found him, seemingly sleeping, eyes closed, hands clasped behind his head. She shook his foot to wake him and discovered how cold he was. Now, if that isn't the way to go, I don't know what is. God bless him. He'll be missed.

So, relax and have a great weekend, and I'll see ya on the other end.

Looks like the government has decided to finally allow some pilots to carry guns to prevent hijackings.

Wouldn't you just love to see the look on the face of the hijacker that's confronted by this cowboy?

Found something interesting on YouTube.

The Mexican military on maneuvers in Northern Mexico, showing a mix of western and Soviet/Russian weapons, all feverishly preparing in the event of an invasion from the north. Now, I realize that such as thing has happened in the past (1840s), but what's the likelihood that it would ever happen again? I mean, that whole Manifest Destiny thing is a bit played out, isn't it?



All countries have plans and maneuvers to train for different contingencies, but did you make out the Generals comment there near the end? He insinuates that they are preparing for a spread out, Iraq style insurgent resistance in case of a US invasion. What the Hell? What exactly do you think they are preparing for? I guess we've shown everyone what our weaknesses are over there. Maybe he was just coming up with an answer to some journalists question concerning the obvious superiority in firepower north of the border. He's gotta come up with something right? Postscript - Looking at it again, I think he's just saying that the Mexican Army has to be prepared for the same sort of fighting we're dealing with in Iraq, I guess.

Thing is, from what we hear, the drug gangs in the north of Mexico are about as well armed as the Mexican army, so maybe they should be preparing for that and stop thinking about re-fighting the battle of Buena Vista. Grab a big hunk of reality hombre. The person who posted the video claims in the blurb that Mexico is about to take possession of new Russian Su-27 fighters. Those will come in handy when they have to bomb the Zapatista rebels again some day, right?

Ever hear this one? What if the Confederates in the Civil War had had assault rifles?

Well, it would'a looked somethin' like this (some of these are a bit fuzzy - I'm still figuring this digital camera out).



Here's the secret... They still would'a got beat like step children (that's another story), but they would'a looked cool as hell while they got beat. But don't say that in front of these dudes. They're VERY sensitive. Don't call it "The War of the Rebellion" ether. Just don't. Trust me.

I went up to Gatesvill to shoot Sunday morning with a buddy and a few of his friends, all Civil War buffs and reenactors. We'd all met before, at gun shows and such. The scope of their knowledge about the uniforms and buttons and tools and minutia of the period would make a doctoral candidate roll it up and go back to waiting tables at Chilli's. I shit you not. It amazes me.

They brought their muzzle loaders and I brought my two latest acquisitions, nether of which had been fired before or sighted in. I wasn't expecting to be able to put on an exhibition, other than making more than my share of noise at the appropriate moments. My buddy also had a new acquisition. At a show in Nashville, which is supposed to be the ultimate Civil War show in the country, he picked up a Hall rifle. Very cool. More on that later.



We all met at my buddies house at about 10:30am. The place is like a museum. I took pictures of his Revolutionary, Mexican and Civil War musket and rifle collection and a few other things but they all came out fuzzy. maybe next time. You can see a few rifles hanging on the upstairs wall, way in the back. Anyway, one guy was trying to sell a few artifacts to the others, doing some early spring cleaning in his collection, and so we got to check out a few things.



This is a Union cannon ball, with powder and time fuse still in tact. Yep, he's holding a 140ish year old, live, unexploded round, dug up out of the ground by reenactors and others who go over old battlefields with metal detectors, just so they can find treasures like this. Boys and their toys. I told them that this picture would provide the authorities the evidence they needed to identify the cause of death, just in case.

After a bit we piled into my buddies half ton truck and rolled out to his back 40, which has served as his family firing range for about 40 years, since the time his family moved to Gatesville from outside Dallas in the 1960s. They sold the 100 acre plot they had there and bought this 400 acre plot for the same money. Now much of it is leased to a guy who raises cattle on it, but my buddy's got 20 acres and access to the rest any time he wants. Nice.



Recently the county, or the power company came by and asked for permission to string power lines through this stretch of his property, which parallels a main road about 100 yards to the left of this picture. The consensus of our group was that it was time to set up a bench further back...



so that we can practice at a longer rages. Note the 1/2 ton truck on the right of this picture, sitting at the 100yd line. That's where we always shoot from.



My buddies dog, Red, followed us out to the range, as she always does. She's a sweet, well tempered pit bull mix, mutt, that just showed up out there one day and his mom began to feed her.



She showed up displaying evidence of having been shot before. Note the scar on her right side. There are actually two scars, showing a bullet track that glanced down her side, in and out. She lived, obviously, but have you ever heard of a dog with post traumatic stress disorder?

Usually she disappears as soon as we start shooting. We were expecting her to vanish this time and then join us again when we rolled back to the house. So imagine our shock when I glanced into the truck as I was heading to the spotting scope set up on the hood, and there she was.



As the day went on, she moved further into the truck, and began to duel all over everything, shaking with fear. We'd talk to her and pet her from time to time, but she wouldn't budge.



She wouldn't budge, so, we went back to shootin'. I know, selfish pigs.



I laid out my goodies on the back of the truck as the others got ready and started blasting away. The nearest rifle is a Hungarian folder, shooting 7.62x39. The farthest is my new Polish Tantal, shooting 5.45x39. Note the more dramatic curve to the 7.62 clip. It's an easy way to tell the difference.



We took turns shooting, but there wasn't any organization to it. Just blast away whenever you feel the need. I watched them a lot. The process of loading and firing those old things is a sight to watch. They take forever, and then I just flip the safety lever and blast away. To each his own.



Lots of fun.



I let one of the guys shoot his first AK, and he let me load and shoot his Springfield. Here he is, shooting my new Tantal (see previous post). It fires a round that is about the same as a .22, but with a lot of powder behind it. It's basically the Soviet answer to the .223, as introduced in Vietnam.



Here's me loading...



And shooting his .58 cal. Springfield (reproduction). These things are a huge load of fun, and these guys are REALLY into it. Biting off the paper and loading the powder and mini ball was a huge pain in the ass. I can't imagine having to do it under fire, as guys are being blown away all around you. Training!



These guys have all the gear and it's easy for them to relax and fall into a familiar stance. I don't see myself ever getting this much into these things, but I will have one of these rifles one of these days, and these guys will come in very handy when it comes to figuring it all out.



Lots of pouring stuff, and ramming and tweaking of things. Please, get yer mind out of the gutter! This is a MANLY pastime. 'Course, even manly men need ear protection. Were not crazy.



Anyway, back to that Hall rifle. Take note of the action on this baby (and the powder residue around the hammer from several firings). In stead of ramming the ball down the muzzle, as in the other rifles we were shooting, this one has an action that pops up to allow you to load it more rapidly, almost like a percussion pistol.



Note how he's popped the action out and is pouring powder into the hole. Thing is, when you fire this thing (and yes, it is an original 1819 model Harper's Ferry Hall rifle he's shooting), there's a little gap between the action and the barrel. As I said, it's like firing an old cap pistol from the same era, only this thing is right up in your face when it goes off. When I got my turn to shoot it my buddy made sure I had my glasses on.



This was taken a second after I'd shot, and you can see how I instantly pulled the thing down and away from my face as I was splattered with powder and bits of crap. It makes it clear why this rifle design never really took off. My buddy said, after shooting it a dozen times or so, and figuring it out, that it would very probably be cleaned and hung on the wall, never to be shot again. Too much friggin' trouble compared to what he's used to.



One guy tried to get an old antique percussion pistol to shoot, but couldn't. the nipples were fouled, or something. So he switched to plinking away with a new toy he'd picked up at the gun show in Dallas the day before.



Again, we all took turns in the end. This is my buddy, the geologist, shooting his friends .45 Taurus. By this time we were all pretty much spent.

Then the weirdest thing happened. As the noise of the shooting died down and we talked, we slowly began to recognise the sound of a child crying. Weird. It was coming from over by the road, to our left in these pictures, in the woods. My buddy and I walked over to see what it was, with all sorts of ideas rolling through my head. Had someone dumped a kid off on the road? What the hell?

Turned out some little brat had been giving his mom too much lip, so she stopped right there on the side of the road and let him have it. From the sound of it I think he' was learning a valuable lesson, but I'm sure that she was lucky a highway patrolman didn't drive by as she was conveying that lesson, in mid swat.

We drug the dog out of the truck, wiped away some of the duel and drove back to the house. She wagged her tail as she ran back beside the truck, happy as a clam. No frontal lobe. Very handy in pets from time to time. We parted, promising to do it all again one day soon. I drove back to Killeen, and then after a bit of a rest I drove to Temple to eat with the folks. Mom had called to inform me that she was cooking eggplant parmigian and fried chicken, and I know what to do when that happens.



I arrived having made a stop at HEB to pick up drinks for dad, just as the goodies were being served.



Mom was in rare form. The chicken and parmigian melted in your mouth. It was so good, and the thing is...



I got to take home the leftovers. I'll eat well for days. Well, for about one day. One and a half.



Dad agrees, Mom's place is the best restaurant in town. He ate the Chinese food I got him Saturday night in Hillsboro. He loves that creamed shrimp. I'm not stupid. Shrimp for him means more chicken for me. Note the cat on the left side of the picture. His name is Mo, and he's waiting for his share. He's dads buddy. He showed up in my back yard one day and my cats beat his ass for a week until I could catch him and get him fixed and turned over to the folks.



Eventually I went home to my own cats, who were glad to see me. It was a hell of a weekend, and the week that began Monday, with seven classes starting, would make me wish I'd spent the two days in bed, but there you go. As someone said once in a great flick, there'll be enough time to sleep in the grave.

Pfew, that was along one. It's back to short inappropriate posts from now on, at least for a while. I'll be too busy for another magnum opus like this. Anyway, thanks for slogging through, and I hope you Dug the scene. Peace out babies. I'll see ya in the later.