Another little musical interlude.

Got out of class last night at about 8:30PM and got in the car to drive home. Started rollin' out of the parking lot and the CD player kicked in with Dogs, from Animals, and I was hit by a shot of realization of what I was missing over in Hotlanta. "That son of a bitch", I grumbled to myself, and repeated it a few more times as I drove home and thought about it a bit more.

So I went home to draft a final exam, and ended up surfin' through about %90 of the latest Roger Waters concert on YouTube. It's 3am now, the exam is mostly done and I need to clear my head, so here's some Jethro Tull for ya. Here's hopin' ol' Mushy had a great time, and that his drunk ass didn't get rolled on the way through the parking lot after the gig. I'm betting good money he got "thick as a brick" before the night was over.



And while were here, why the hell not pull out the big guns?



Shit, I thought they were forced to take all the Zep off YouTube? Cool! Oh well, Fuck it, and fuck Roger Waters for not comin' to Texas, or at least closer that Atlanta or fuckin' Mexico City with this latest show. Oh well, there'll be another day. Maybe next time he tours he won't be so pissed at the president and decide to take it out on us like this, the prick.

Oooooo, this is cool.

Cats Eye nebula, 3000 light-years from earth. This is what it looks like when a star explodes. Click to enlarge it.

Jesus, I've been tagged again.

Usually I find these things a bit silly, girlish, like something silly teenage girls do in class when they're supposed to be sitting quietly while I fucking lecture! Ok, I needed that release. It's been a long day.

Anyway, old Mushy has tagged me to lay it all out and tell everyone how I keep this girlish figure. What are my favorite places to eat? I'm thinking... sitting in front of the computer, sitting on the couch, laying on the bed? Ok, not what he means.

What are my five favorite restaurants? And there are rules? Shit, there's always rules.

First, link to the dude that tagged you, and show a goofy assed picture of him again, just to fuck with his head. Covered. Ain't he purdy?



SUCH a whore!

Anyway, list the five best places you like to eat, then tag five more chumps. Hehehehehe! I'm feeling naughty.

Here we go...

1. Ok, OBVIOUSLY, my favorite place to eat is, and has been for 46 years, my mom's house. Best restaurant in town, whatever town we were livin' in at the time. You've all seen the fried chicken and peach ice cream posts, so I don't think I even need to go there. But here's a few pictures, just to set the mood...



Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Yummy.



That's right, its GOOOOOOD. How the hell do you think I got this way? I'm not a fat hairy bastard for nothing.

Fried chicken and Ice cream are her most famous creations, but other famous dishes from moms place include; Spaghetti, chili with beans, chicken enchiladas, steak and french fries, and when she's takin' it easy, she whips up a tamale casserole, or chili dogs. Mmmm, Mmmm. Oh shit, and did I tell ya that she makes the best scrambled eggs, mixing cream cheese in the eggs as she's whipping them. Damn! Ok, I'm getting dizzy.

She also surprises me some times with a dozen or so little pigs in a blanket. She takes a roll of Pillsbury croissants, cuts each croissant triangle in half, and rolls them over Jimmy Dean, hot, precooked sausages, also cut in half. Just out of the oven (15 minutes at 375), there isn't anything better.

2. Hmmm, my next choice is probably Dynasty Chinese Restaurant, in Temple. This is where my dad and I will be eating again tonight, as we do every Friday night. The folks there are great to dad. When he hobbles in they sit him down and rush off to get his regular plate of fried shrimp and red sauce, even while I'm still parkin' my car. I tip them well, and have grown to love their food. It's a buffet, and as I've found, the food is much better if you show up in a busy time when the food is fresh and hot. We've been going to this place for decades, and it's always been the place we went with my cousins and aunts. Thing is, I really didn't start loving their food till dad and I started going. They do amazing things with General Tso's chicken, which is my favorite thing to eat, outside mom's house. They also make a wonderful shrimp fried rice, with big fat shrimp and eggs and veggies. I hate it when a Chinese food place scrimps on the shrimp, giving you pissy little salad shrimp in the rice. What the fuck is the point of that? You can't even taste the bastards.

3. About once a month, the folks and sis and I pile into the folks big boat, the Grand Marquis, and roll down to Austin to enjoy a gluttonous feed at the local Pappasito's Cantina. Excellent Mexican food, specializing in chicken or beef fajitas, and more succulent shrimp (you're beginning to notice a pattern?). They make great queso dip, with ground beef mixed in it, and their own fresh chips and picante sauce. We usually go through about two bowls of chips before the main meal gets there. The best thing they make, In our opinion, is their Brochette shrimp. These little baby's are split down the middle, stuffed with cheese and a wedge of jalapeno pepper, wrapped in bacon, slathered in a mixture of white wine and butter, covered in a mixture of various spices, and then grilled. When they arrive on a hot plate, still sizzling, they give you a little bowl of melted and whipped butter, mixed with white wine, and a few other things, to dip the shrimp in. I tell ya, they are about the best thing in the world, for those moments when your mouth is making sweet love to them. Try them some time. Remember to get the butter dip. They're not the same without it. I usually order the fajita enchiladas as my main meal, and then end up taking about half of it home. Total gluttony.

4. Ok, this one is complicated, because it's actually two places. Back a few years ago one of the secretaries at work came in and told me there was a new Chinese place in Copperas Cove, west of the base. That's usually all I need to hear. I go there and order my usual, and I can tell by the way they make the Gen. Tso's and rice whether they're any good or not. This place threw me for a loop. Totally unexpected. The flavor of the rice reminded me of the rice I'd eaten in Hong Kong and Kowloon ten or twelve years ago, when I was teaching on the ships. I'd made a point to take a train into the interior to check out the places where the local folks eat. This new restaurant was called the Beijing Cafe.

It turns out that unlike every other Chinese food place around here, including Dynasty in Temple, the cooks at Beijing are actually Chinese! They use the authentic spices and the food has the same flavor that I'd grown to love overseas. Well, I went back regularly until about six months ago, when I noticed a few personnel changes. It turns out that the original Chinese cook/owner had sold out to a new set of Chinese cooks/owners. The food was basically the same, so I went back to grazing without much interruption, though I wondered what had happened to the old folks.

Then, about a month ago, I noticed that the old wing place by my local Killeen McDos lube joint had turned into a new Chinese food place. I'm thinkin' "Jesus, not another Chinese place!?!" There's got to be ten or twelve of these places in town, and most of them are half assed. I resisted for a few weeks, but finally decided to swing by for lunch and check it out. Imagine my glee when I walked in and found the old waitress and cook from Beijing had started a new restaurant. This time it's closer to the house, and the food is even cheaper. before the waitress had run the cash register and handled the call-in orders (speaks good English), but this time she's a full partner. I've been back one more time, and it looks like I won't have to drive the extra fifteen minutes to Cove anymore for good vittles. Business is business.

5. This one is a real favorite. Outside Little Rock Arkansas, heading southwest, just off exit 118 from I-30, there's a 100 foot long wonderland of deep fried and baked southern delight called Brown's Country Store. That's right, they have a 100 foot long buffet, filled with everything you could imagine in southern cuisine. My routine involves three trips, and three plates; salad plate, dinner plate, and dessert plate. It's a sight to behold, I wanna tell ya. This little stop on the road back from Arkansas has a special place in my heart.

Back when I was a kid, just starting college, I took an intramural PE class called Camping and Canoeing at the local community college. I found a world that I'd never known before, and friends that I still hang with to this day. We'd go on a big canoe trip to the Buffalo National River in the Ozarks, and spend three days living like kings and queens on the river. I keeps going on the trips till my school work and other things got in the way. I failed to go back for a few years while I finished my BA and spent two years getting my Masters in History. After finishing, I decided to go back and see if they were still teaching that canoeing class. Sure enough they were, and they were happy to have me tag along and help teach the new kids a thing or two.

Thing is, the trips had changed in those four years that I was away. The tents and canoes were a bit nicer, and the canoe trailers were a bit sturdier. We had a hell of a time, and I met another bunch of folks that I'm still friends with today. Then, on the return trip from the Ozarks, the coach made a left turn on I-40. I was thinkin' "what the hell?" Turns out we rolled a little ways back to the outskirts of Little Rock, slid down to I-30 west, and then 15 or 20 minutes later we were exiting into paradise. If you ever get the chance, give it a whirl. It's not health food, so don't get yer panties in a twist when your cholesterol level jumps a bit after the trip. Hell, you've gotta die of somethin'. Might as well have a smile on your face.

So, who to tag? I'm thinkin' Phlemmy, Becky, Kevin, Myron, and the Editor.

Well, there it is. I'm off. It's late and the sack beckons. All this talk of food and travel has exhausted me. Hope you enjoyed the trip. Drink up and eat well. See ya later. 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.

Here's some real wisdom.

Not contrived. Born of a life fully lived. Like some of the films and books we all grew up loving, written by people who had lived through real shit. Born of experience, from the generation that knew the Depression close up, that fought "The Good War" for freedom and justice, and then lived to see it all pissed away in the name of safety and propriety. Here's Bono reading Charles Bukowski's poem "roll the dice".



I wish I'd known some of these things back when it could have counted for something. "Youth is wasted on the young", some other wise ass said. I wish a lot of things a lot of the time. Dads got a saying about that though... Wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which hand fills up first. More old time wisdom. Says it all. I can't stop wishin' though. Too many regrets. Too many dreams about do-overs that I'll never get. I guess, if you ketch on, those thoughts are like lessons learned, so we don't pass things up if they come by again. Then again, sometimes you need a slap to the face to wake you up and get yer attention.

Dad and I had another good outing last Friday night, but ended up not hittin' golf balls after all. He was hungry and didn't want to go before we ate (or maybe he was sore from the last time), and we were both too bloated to do it after we ate, so we blew it off. I was wired and would have enjoyed the catharsis of hitting a bucket. I'd witnessed a bad car accident right in front of me in the minutes before getting to mom and dads place, and I was still pumped from the adrenaline hours later.

I was driving down a four lane, strait thoroughfare, from I-35 to 31st street on the south side of Temple. I'm chuggin' along in traffic, goin' about 50ish (in the flow and not really watchin' the speedometer) when I see an SUV in the oncoming lane hitting the brakes and making a violent lurch to the right, overcompensating to the left, hurling himself into our lane right in front of the SUV that's driving about three car lengths in front of me. Brakes are burnin' all over the place, including mine.

The people in front of me jerked over to the right to try to avoid hitting the car that had now turned back to the right, and was sliding sideways into us, just about to start a roll-over. If the folks in front of me had been a bit quicker they'd have missed the oncoming mess completely and the bastard would have rolled sideways over me, but it wasn't meant to be. They smashed bumpers, with the rear left hand bumper of the one hitting the right front bumper of the folks in front of me. I end up driving through a cloud of tiny plastic shards, like one of those films you see of a WW2 fighter plane flying through the exploding remains of an ammo train or a "Buzz Bomb".

They both limped off away to the left of the road, out of my way, and I slowly rolled by, thinking how lucky I'd been to avoid it all, and not to have been slammed into from behind as we all broke in a panic. Meanwhile, my life is flashing in front of my eyes, which is enough to bore most people to death, and I'm seeing images of this bastard rolling over me and fucking my nice little car all to hell. The one SUV is behind me somewhere, and the folks that had been in front of me are stopped on the other side of the road, their left front smashed and leaking fluids, and smoke filling the cab. I see immediately that they are moving, getting out of the car and that about a half dozen other cars are stopping to give assistance, so I waited a moment, thought about stopping, and then rolled on and counted my blessings. In a minute, as my head was clearing, I thought to call 911 and report it all. I probably should have stopped, but I hate to be in a situation like that when I feel like I'm one of a bunch of people trying to help, and feeling like I'm just in the way.

So, I was pumped with adrenaline there for a while and flinching behind the wheel the rest of the night. Nothing like seeing something like that right in front of you to wake you up and get your attention. After eating and visiting with the folks, I headed home, and as I'm driving west on that same road towards I-35, I note that the sky is darkening as I go. Turns out I'm driving into a friggin' wall cloud with lightning flashing all over. I'm thinkin', "what the hell else is gonna happen to me tonight?" As I head west on 190 I look up at the edge of the cloud and see these tendrils dipping down, and I think to myself "if these things start spinning I'm fucked". Lightning is flashing a few times about a quarter of a mile down the road, and it looks like it's actually hitting the road. Jesus!

I got home ok, and then it rained like crazy, and the folks from here up to Ft. Worth got rain, bad wind and hail, and we got about an inch and a half or rain. We were lucky and missed the bad stuff. I slept in Saturday, and blew the day piddling around the house and napping (NOT pulling weeds). Sunday I headed up to Gatesville and shot guns with a buddy. I tried to sight in that new Romanian .22 rifle. It turned out to be a huge pain in the ass, misfeeding about every other time for a while and not ejecting correctly, and then working fine for a while. Frustrating as hell. My buddy shot his old Russian SKS and an old AR-15 that looks like the rifle the guys in 'Nam used. We had a good time, and then I drove down 36 to eat dinner at mom and dads. Mom made beef stew and cornbread, to die for, and I worked on their garage door, which had been giving them trouble since someone fucked with it the day before. It was off the rail. Quick fix and it was running like new.

I floated the idea to dad about going to hit golf balls, but he declined again. Don't know what the deal is. He used to always go on and on when I didn't want to do it, but now he's reluctant. Well, he was probably just tired or something, or maybe the one time we did it was so depressing for him that he's changed his mind. So, on the way home I stopped at a driving range off 190 and hit a bucket by myself. I guess I've talked myself into wanting to do it, but now he doesn't. This is our relationship in a microcosm. Frustrating.

So now I'm watching American Choppers and relaxing before the week starts again. I hope all your weekends were a lot less dramatic, and that you all avoided the ridiculous weather, and that you enjoyed old Charlie's poem. Marquisdejolie turned me on to Bukowski in a few of his poetic rants. You should check him out some time. Anyway, I'm outta here. Later.

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.

Another little musical interlude.

It's been said that the official end of the 1960s was documented for everyone to see in The Rolling Stones 1970 concert at Altamont Speedway. The tragic decision to hire the Hells Angels as security, and the death of a concert goer caught on film are just two highlights in the fascinating documentary of that concert, dubbed the west coasts Woodstock, "Gimme Shelter". Mick Jagger, never one to shrink from publicity, contracted to have a film made of their 1972 U.S. Tour, coinciding with the release of their album "Exile on Main Street".

Photographer Robert Frank, who'd taken some of the album photos, was chosen as director, and took a much artier approach to filming the Stones on stage and off. However, footage of drug consumption, (staged) orgies and a decidedly non-commercial title prevented "Cocksucker Blues" from getting an official theatrical release. Even so, it's long been widely available on video as a bootleg.

Immediately after a private screening of the film, Jagger is said to have turned to Frank and told him, "It's a fucking good film, Robert, but if it shows in America we'll never be allowed in the country again." Jagger may well have been afraid of the film's lurid and potentially incriminating images - the heroin use, Jagger masturbating, or even the extended sequence of questionably consensual group sex with a reluctant groupie at 30,000 feet (after all, this was rock and roll).

But what Mick may have found most disturbing was the bleak and accurate portrait of the obvious despair and loneliness of life on the road. Frank's obsession with pursuing truth destroyed the illusion of glamour for the world's most famous rock and roll band.The Stones took Frank to court to prevent the film's distribution. It became, legally, a question of who owned the film, the artist who created it or the patron who paid for it. A bizarre deal was struck allowing the film to be screened once a year, but only if the director was present for the screening.

Of course, now the film is available on DVD, and clips are appearing on YouTube and elsewhere. Here's a clip from that 72 tour. I think this may have been their peak, with the slide to geezerdom still way over the horizon. I saw them in Rome at a soccer stadium in the summer of 1990. Got up close, and enjoyed it, but they were only a shadow of the band they'd been in this early time. There's somethin' wrong with these guys still tryin' to shake their money maker at their age. Sordid.

Enjoy this snap shot.

And yea, I'm lookin' for that DVD. I'll tell ya if I find it.

Happy Easter everyone.

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!

I've got a mission.

Talked to my neighbor the other day. He's a grizzled old vet, Korea and Nam, in a wheel chair from some sort of crud that he picked up after getting out (maybe). Conversation on a recent gun show moved to old times, and he tells me that he's still got the knife he used on the first man he ever killed, in Korea. Ran into a North Korean in the middle of the night. One walked away. I ask him if the bayonet was on the end of his rifle at the time and he says "Nope". Cool! Tells me he's got the knife but no sheath. I tell him they are easy to find. He asks me to see if I can find one. His wife brings the thing out wrapped in foam, secured with tape. Hands it to me like an old religious icon. I take it out of the foam and check it out. Dig it.



Typical M-4 bayonet, manufactured by Pal Cutlery some time during WW2 or Korea. Someone really fucked up the cutting edge, but maybe that's what soldiers do in war, sharpening the standard issue stuff that probably arrives blunt as hell. I dunno. All I know is what he's told me. Would LOVE to get the thing tested to see if there's still any Korean DNA on it. Seriously, it looks like something some stupid kid picked up at a dime store and tried to sharpen with a brick.
Started looking on the web today, sites I know about, and found one place that had the right sort of sheath, but they were out of stock. I'll keep lookin'. I'm on a mission.
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Update: Found the sheath online and ordered it. It'll be here in a week or so. Can't wait to go over and hand it all back to him. Fun.