Sweet

This is beyond belief. I made about 70 bullets.

I only plan to shoot 51 of the ones I’ve made so far. The first 10-20 taught me how easy it is to screw up the charge, so I’ve already taken most of them apart, and I’m going to take the rest apart later.

I finally realized that a person as attention-deficient as I am would need a system pretty badly, so I actually sit there and say “casing, bullet, down, up” every time I crank the handle. That makes it pretty hard to miss a step.

The priming problem was caused by crud in the primer slide. I think. It appears that the hole the primers pop through isn’t quite perfectly round, so I may remedy that myself. I also adjusted the rod that determines how far back the primer slide goes. I had a few misfeeds, but things went okay.

I hosed the inside of the feed tube with Hornady One Shot, and I put a piece of a coat hanger on top of the primers to gently make sure they were seated down in the press. Some people leave a brass rod on top of the stack of primers permanently, to push them down the tube.

I mentioned priming primerless rounds earlier. I guess I was having a low blood sugar moment. Two commenters have pointed out that this is not a bright idea, and I agree. When I get a primed case with no charge, I run it through again, but I won’t prime a case that has a charge in it.

Powder is all over the place. When a primer fails to feed, powder flies. When I take a bullet apart, powder flies. I guess it’s unavoidable.

I truly hope I don’t blow up my beautiful SW1911 with a double charge. I can’t see how that could happen. I was very careful. Now that I’ve actually made ammunition, I can see the danger, so I’m definitely going to get a doodad to monitor the charges. I can’t weigh the rounds after I make them, because the cases vary in weight. I think the Dillon powder checker is the best bet. It’s electronic, so it yells at you when you make a mistake.

Thanks again for all the help.

Bullets!

Annoyed as I am by the documentation that accompanied my Hornady reloading press, I am all about giving credit where credit is due. So let me compliment their customer service, which, like Dillon’s, enjoys a sublime reputation.

I bought a bunch of Hornady crap, qualifying me for a huge pile of free bullets. Attention-deficient freak that I am, I screwed up the paperwork qualifying me for the promotion. You’re supposed to send the UPC (bar code) label from every product you bought, and I had a whole pile of products. And I managed to leave the UPC code for the biggest item–the press–out of the envelope.

I’m always this way with paperwork. It’s the only thing I hated about litigation. Courts are brutally picayune and unreasonable in their requirements regarding the niceties of paperwork. I think this is because they let their clericals, who have never endured the stress of law practice, make the rules. So sometimes you’ll find yourself with three or more piles of paperwork, all different. One for the court, one for you, one for the opponent, and God knows what else. And the court may have a long list of very bothersome, unjustifiable rules concerning where to put the staples and what kind of paper to use and so on. And you usually have to Xerox a certificate of service and a final signature for each instrument, and you have to put the original signed versions on one set of documents for the court. But to put them on the other documents, you have to remember to remove the blank ones that came out when you printed everything.

By the end of the day, if you’re not ready to blow your brains out, you are a very special person. You are probably a totally uncreative, highly responsible person who always knows where his car keys are. If you’re like me, however, you will climb the walls.

So it was a certainty that I would screw up the Hornady order.

I called them after I found the missing UPC stuck between the sheets of a yellow pad. I told them the deal, and they said they had so many orders to deal with, they’d probably ship my whole package back and have me do it over. Okay, not ideal. But acceptable, given the fact that it was my fault.

Today UPS came by. And the poor guy delivering the stuff looked like he was carrying a black hole in a box. I went out on the porch and picked it up. Forty-eight pounds of lead and copper. Hornady gave me every one of the 1400 bullets I applied for. I guess they couldn’t bring themselves to make me do the whole thing over again. I may never have to buy .45 ammunition again.

I just opened the box. They’re so pretty. It’s my understanding that these are not the most wonderful defensive rounds, because people have found that the expansion is not great. But they’re FREE.

I also received my pistol rotor and micrometer, a bunch of tiddly little replacement parts, and a very expensive can of Hornady One Shot to degrease things. It will probably be Saturday evening before I can use any of it.

I had a bunch of crap to do today, but I’m taking a breather. Not sure how next week is going to pan out. I may be able to blog a fair amount, and I may not.

While on my break, I watched a DVR’d Tred Barta episode. I am really starting to like this guy. It’s embarrassing, but I am. Maybe it’s because he shares some of the irritating traits I possess and mistakenly think other people find charming and admirable. He’s constantly yammering about his opinions while waving his right fist. “The conservation groups are buying up all the hunting land!” “The liberal press is running down our kids!” “We’re just not kicking hippies enough!”

Okay, that last one was mine.

Today he shot a giant moose from fifteen feet with a bow. Luckily for him, it ran in the other direction. Then it wandered into a freezing pond and keeled over. The rest of the show was dedicated to the process of removing half-ton-plus mooses from remote ponds, using a canoe and a chainsaw. It took him and the guide a day and a half. For what? A pile of rapidly aging, unbled moose meat. Can you even eat that stuff?

I felt bad for the moose. I’m pro-hunting and so on, but this animal had an arrow completely through its lungs, and it ran a long way before it fell. I still think that when you hunt for sport, your primary consideration should be a fast, clean kill.

So far, out of all the hunting people I’ve seen on TV, this is the only guy I think I’d enjoy hunting or fishing with. I guess that’s a bad sign. I’d definitely want to part ways with him an hour after the boat docked or the hunt was over, to do Barta detox in preparation for the next day, but I think the fishing or hunting would be a lot of fun.

Guess I’ll get back to the grind. After fondling my bullets again.

SPACE

I had a wonderful day yesterday. I drove up to Delray Beach to see Mike, and we went shooting and took in a movie.

Because of the terrible traffic in Miami, I try not to leave the house between 7 and 9:30 a.m., 12:30 and 1:30 p.m., and 3:30 and 7:30 p.m. They have ridiculous school zones all over the place, crippling the whole city in the morning and when schools let out. And apart from school traffic, the morning and evening rush hours are not to be believed. And lunch hour is no fun, either. Accordingly, I hit the road before the lunchtime rush hour really got going and shot up I-95.

The drive was absolutely glorious. As I progressed into and through Broward County, I felt as though a coating of crust and grime were peeling off of me. Tension melted away. The traffic eased. The buildings grew farther apart. By the time I hit Palm Beach County, I thought I was in heaven. I knew I was sick of Miami, but the full extent didn’t hit me until I was out.

I took the second Delray exit and passed through town on the way to Mike’s office. What a mistake! I didn’t take the bypass, to get around the deadly downtown congestion! This added perhaps 90 seconds to my trip. I got over it.

I drove Mike to lunch and the range. The traffic lights were so far apart, I felt pampered.

The range was okay, but it was dark and very hot. I don’t think they air-condition the shooting lanes. I was surprised to at how hard it was to aim in the gloom. Up side: they allow shooters to use interesting targets. Mike and I both chose Osama bin Laden, and we took turns shooting .38 Super and .45 ACP. I didn’t do all that great, but I had a fantastic time.

I highly recommend Iron Man. Marvel’s movies are hit and miss, as their problems with the Hulk show. But this one was a perfect ten. And one of the things I liked most was seeing Robert Downey, Jr. pull off a major acting coup after all the problems he has had. Talk about a guy who seemed headed for oblivion. It gives you hope for other people with drug problems.

Naturally, there’s a big, bad arms manufacturer in the movie. But they had enough sense not to do the traditional attack on the government and the military. I have a feeling the new Hulk movie won’t be as kind to the Boogeyman Complex. It’s funny; leftists, including entertainers, love Rosie the Riveter, but they hate her employers. I guess it’s like supporting the troops while condemning everything they do and accusing them of being illiterate murderers comparable to the Nazis. Maybe we should call Rosie “Rosie the Dupe.” Or “Rosie the Warmonger.”

I have stuff distracting me today, but you will hear from me when I can take breaks.

Future Politics

Don’t wait for the Obama/McCain debate. Read it now, via Moxie!

And More

I just wanted to post a note thanking all the people who sent me email offering to help with reloading. I haven’t answered them all yet, but I will.

I’m off to Delray Beach, to visit Mike the health care entrepreneur.

Before I go, let me point out that the Mercy Corps is now accepting donations to help Myanmar cyclone victims. Here is a link.

Finally: as if Leah Friedman hasn’t had enough problems, now her wisdom teeth are giving her headaches, and she’s not strong enough to have them removed. Say a prayer. Leave a comment.

Helpful Reloading Hobbyists Continue to Bless

I am being criticized by the reloading mystics again! Someone linked to me from a forum, and the Sadducees there are up in arms because–like thousands of other people–I had problems with the lame manual Hornady provided with the Lock-N-Load press! I’ll translate their criticisms briefly: we are cool. The bathrooms in our trailers have tactical toilet seats. We sign onto Ebay and bid on Rob Leatham’s dirty socks. You will never be as smart as we are, regardless of how many times we failed the biased GED exam. So instead of helping, we will insult you and try to feel even better about ourselves than we already do.

Okay, whatever. When I blog, my goal isn’t to please the self-righteous (not counting myself) and stingy.

One of these guys accused me of being an engineer! That hurts. The Nazis used to call Einstein an engineer in order to put him down. Besides, if I were an engineer, I might have some actual practical knowledge.

He probably doesn’t have the education to know the difference between an engineer and a physicist. He probably thinks a guy who fixes TVs is a physicist.

When I studied physics, very little of what I did involved handling physical objects. I learned how to put simple electronic devices together, but that’s about it. When I taught lab classes, the most complicated thing I operated was one of those machines optometrists use to test vision. Don’t ask me how it works. I don’t remember a thing, except the word “diopter.” Physics is mostly theory. An unfortunate consequence is that physicists will sometimes come up with conclusions that seem to make sense on paper, but which are ridiculous in real life.

I’ll give an example. When I taught, the grad students were expected to write questions for the final exam. One girl wrote a question about a cone-shaped iceberg, asking how far down it would ride in the water. And she assumed it would float with the point up and the base down. I pointed out that the other end would probably be at the top. An iceberg with a small top would be unstable; it would be impossible for it to remain in that position. And we were both wrong. Yes, it would have been stable in the position I described. But not too stable. Far and away, the most likely orientation would be horizontal. And the calculus involved in determining the submerged volume would have been way too hard for the students. The formula for the volume of a cone is simple. But a sliver of the side of a cone, carved off at an angle? Off the top of my head, I have no idea what it would be.

I was the only grad student who noticed the problem, and the rest probably have Ph.Ds now. Be glad they’re not engineers, designing bridges you use to get to work.

It’s funny how some hobbies attract jerks and others attract nice people. Let’s see. Oddly, when I played bluegrass, I ran into a surprising number of obnoxious people. Homebrewers seem nice, probably because they’re always drunk. Fishermen are the worst; maybe the constant sensations of desperation and failure make them vicious. I really can’t stand serious fishermen. Boxers and other martial artists generally seem polite. People who play classical piano are stuffy and irritable. Cooks are generally pleasant; chefs are not. Math and science seem to attract utterly foul individuals as well as people who are humble and friendly in spite of their grotesquely oversized mental hardware.

Most people I’ve met at the gun range have been very decent, although the employees can be a real test of patience. I have wondered if people have been polite to me simply because they’ve seen that I shoot a lot better than they do, but I’ve found that rifle people are generally okay, and I have not accomplished much with rifles.

The peculiar thing about gun people is that people who can’t shoot are sometimes among the most unpleasant. Maybe a cultivated air of superiority is a means of compensating for a lack of ability. Which is odd, because ultimately, it’s all about who can make the bullets go where they’re supposed to. Everything else is peripheral.

I’m beginning to think I should give up on the case-activated powder measure. People keep telling me it’s sensitive to the way you pull the lever. Oddly, this fact is not emphasized in bright red letters on the box, nor does either manual say anything about it. I get the impression that the charge is the thing that is most likely to fail and destroy your gun. People talk a lot about overfilled and underfilled cases.

Most of my rounds end up going through the same hole. After fifteen shots or so, I generally don’t get good feedback–entire new holes–indicating that the bullets have left the gun. So if I fired a slug halfway down the barrel, unless I felt a difference in the gun’s motion, I would probably be unaware of the problem. I might shoot another one right behind it. Which would be bad. Maybe the best thing is to load the powder into the casings by hand. The problem with that is that I’ll have to run them through the press twice. Once to size, decap, and prime, and once to seat the bullet and do the crimp. In between, I’ll have to take the cases out and fill them. Otherwise, the powder may run out through the primer holes.

Oh, well. I’d have ridiculously consistent and reliable ammunition. That counts for something.

Some people have suggested I write new instructions for the press. That would be a good idea, if I had any idea what I was doing. I think I should write notes for my own use. I suppose once I understand reloading, I could polish my notes up and make a PDF available. Right now, the only advice I can give is, don’t even consider it unless you want to devote a lot of time and money to it. Everyone who says it’s simple is lying in order to impress you with their skill, or just mistaken. It may seem simple to them. Hey, calculus seemed simple to me. Bouncing a golf ball on the face of an iron and then hitting it in the air, so it heads for the green, seems simple to Tiger Woods. Odds are, you will see these things differently.

The final bunch of reloading crap will arrive soon. After that, I will know what I’m up against.

Choke on Your Form Letter

I sent Publix Supermarkets an email via their contact page, telling them I was not happy that they were trying to disarm their employees by suing to have HB503 overturned. This is the progressive new law that permits Florida citizens to keep guns in their cars at work. It’s very obviously a reasonable and intelligent piece of legislation, but Publix and Wal-Mart and Disney want no part of it.

Their ridiculous form letter arrived today. Here is part of it.

Thank you for your email. Each year Publix monitors hundreds of pieces of legislation that would have an impact on our operations. The issue that you are referring to is one that could impact the employer/employee relationship. At Publix we value highly the relationship we have with our associates and therefore have concerns with any regulation or legislation that interferes with that relationship. Publix is not, and never has been anti-gun or anti-gun owner. Our concerns in this case deal strictly with associates on company property and have no impact on customers who shop with us.

I promptly responded, informing them that their anti-civil-rights lawsuit would impact millions of employees of companies all over Florida. But Publix does not want to hear from customers; they have their email rigged up so it bounces anything not sent via their ridiculous website.

I haven’t been to Publix in quite some time. And I haven’t missed it. Winn-Dixie has much better prices on meat, and it’s easier to get to. I’m sure there must be something I can only get from Publix, but at the moment I can’t think of what it is. I went from 85% Publix/15% WD to 95% WD/5% Publix. They’ll lose several thousand dollars, gross, on me this year.

I wanted to go to Wal-Mart the other day and check out ammunition prices, but then I remembered their participation in the lawsuit, and I drove right by.

Help me punish these authoritarian throwbacks. Donate to the NRA-ILA, and avoid Publix, Wal-Mart, and Disney. Our civil rights are not a joke; this is not a minor issue.

Rats

I decided to give the Hornady powder measure one more try, on the theory that the acetone I applied made the paint and plastic sticky and caused charges to be inconsistent. I filled the measure halfway and even tapped it once in a while.

Results? I’m getting something like +/- 0.5 grains. Screw it. I’ll wait for the pistol rotor and micrometer meter to arrive. I even ordered Hornady’s special dry lube and degreaser, which costs over a dollar per ounce.

Someone claims Dillon’s machines don’t come with an oily film on them. Can that be true?

Only Heathens Have Hangovers on Monday

Once again, thanks for all the reloading info. I hope everyone realizes that when I write posts complaining about the press, I am in a homicidal mood. Imagine dealing with a problem with Microsoft software for about three days, having to reboot your computer a thousand times and getting utterly inadequate information from the boys over in Calcutta. Remember how you felt the last time that happened (shut up, George Moneo)? That’s the state I’m in when I write these things. So if I seem unhinged, consider what I have been going through all day.

On top of that, I have always had a problem with bad teaching, which is what you get from a bad manual. Back when I was studying math and physics, I vented my spleen constantly on bad teachers and the authors of bad books. Very often, I ignored the text for a course as much as I could, in favor of better things I found at bookstores. Schaum manuals, in particular, were fantastic. Fifteen-dollar paperback manuals often blew away seventy-dollar hardcover doorstops.

For some odd reason, people in math and science feel entitled to write text books just because they’re good at what they do. Sometimes they’re right. A few Nobel winners have managed to write excellent books. Generally, they’re completely wrong. The skills it takes to be a great scholar are utterly unrelated to the skills it takes to be a good teacher.

Part of the problem is that math and science people have gigantic egos, and many are a bit hostile, and they like making things hard for other people, because then they can swoop in and show how obvious the answers are. It’s an insecurity thing. You spend your childhood with a perpetual wedgie, and you get used to mommy patting your head every time you say something smart in front of company, and you grow up with an insatiable need to prove your superiority. So you deliberately explain things badly and then express pretend surprise when intelligent or even brilliant people have no idea what you mean. The other side of this equation is the insecure students who sit and nod approvingly when they don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about. I assume they grow up to be textbook authors.

One physicist at the University of Texas said he considered something “obvious” if a graduate student could figure it out in a day and a half. Boy, I’ll bet he has great friendships and romantic relationships. You can tell he’s a joy to be around. Richard Feynman said that if you can’t explain something to someone who isn’t as knowledgeable as you are, you probably don’t understand it yourself.

I think math and physics students should develop a practice of raising their hands and saying, “I realize you are a towering genius and I am a moron, so let’s get past that and get straight to the explanation of what you just said.”

I don’t think bad manuals are driven by insecurity. Just bad business skills. If you punish your customers, they punish you right back, and they always win.

Sunday was great. If you’re religious, let me urge you again: try it. If you’re Jewish, take Saturday off. If you’re a Christian, pick the weekend day of your choice. It really works.

Let’s see. I finished Exodus and got started on Leviticus. I read more of Rabbi Eckstein’s How Firm a Foundation. I stayed away from the reloading press. And I discovered one more benefit of observing the sabbath. I got to bed at a more reasonable hour.

I have come to the realization that almost nothing worthwhile happens after ten p.m. It’s too late to play music. TV is like toxic waste mixed with junk food, and the older you get, the more boring it seems. It’s too late to use noisy tools. Too dark to do anything outside. You can’t eat, unless you want to lie in bed with a giant lump in your stomach. It’s too late for me to take Marvin and Maynard out. Best choice? Hit the hay and get up at a better time the next day. The early morning, horrific as it is for the first half hour, is nothing like as useless as the hours after ten p.m. You can get your prayers done properly. You can have a decent breakfast. You can leave for work at the correct time and not drive like a maniac. All around, getting up early is a good idea.

Last night I managed to get in bed not long after ten, and it was due to the nature of the day. You can’t observe the sabbath and then sit up websurfing or watching R-rated cable movies. So it’s easier to get to bed early and reset your internal clock.

While reading Rabbi Eckstein’s book, I was surprised by the attitude he takes toward the suffering of the Jews. He seems to think Christians believe Jews are supposed to suffer, and that this drives anti-Semitism. And he believes Man has the tools to end Jewish suffering, as well as suffering in general. I know Christian ignoramuses have come up with a lot of insane rationalizations for anti-Semitism, but I think Rabbi Eckstein is mistaken. For one thing, anti-Semitism is not a Christian idea; it’s more pervasive than that. I think the Rabbi focuses too much on Christians. Right now, the worst offenders are Muslims. And the atheists who ran the USSR were also extremely damaging. As were the Nazis, who hated Christianity as well as Judaism. For another thing, I believe the world is manipulated by evil supernatural beings hostile to God, and the Jews are special to God, so they will always be targets. I think the same beings drive the persecution of effective, faith-filled Christians. And I don’t think Man can put an end to any of this, under his own power. Seems to me that Christians and Jews have to stand together in faith.

Christians believe Satan is evil and has his own agenda. Jews believe he works for God, so I suppose they would have a hard time accepting the idea of legions of fallen angels under Satan’s control, attacking everyone God loves.

Now that I think about it, it seems like Africans suffer more than anyone. Like I always say, compared to Africa, even India looks like paradise. And Jews have fared better than American Indians.

I may attack the reloading press again today. I ordered the fancy Hornady parts that are supposed to make pistol charges uniform, but I would love to make it work without them, just so I could feel like I beat the silly thing.

Place your bets.

Sunday Brings Welcome Break From Struggle With Mechanical Ineptitude

Yesterday I had an experience that helped me understand what Jews go through every week. Observant Jews always go crazy on Friday, talking about the things they can’t get done by sundown. Well, yesterday I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish, and because the reloading press soaked up so much time, I had to cross a bunch of them off my list. I think getting the first batch of pistol rounds out of that thing may turn out to be my most rewarding experience since taking up tools. I felt great when I fabricated a smoker box for the Hoginator, and I was on top of the world the day I finished my outdoor entertainment cabinet, but those tasks were child’s play compared to reloading.

It’s funny how people live in little segregated subsets of society, and how that limits what we do. For example, let’s say I want to redo some ducting for my air conditioning system. I’m screwed. I have to buy books and read websites. I’ll come here and ask my readers questions. It would be a living hell. But a guy from a blue-collar background may have a totally different experience. Someone in his family will know how to do it. One of his friends, maybe. And in all likelihood, someone he knows will be able to “borrow” tools and materials from work.

Similarly, I suppose, people from blue-collar families have it rough when they need professional services. If I have a legal problem, I can handle it myself. I can call other lawyers and get free help. Doctors treat each other’s kids free of charge. Something that might cost you five thousand dollars may cost a doctor’s kid nothing.

I have never had a relative or friend who reloads! Not one! There is absolutely nobody near me I can ask for help. So problems that seem simple to other people are very difficult for me. I can email people or make phone calls, but it’s not the same. It’s like trying to learn machining in Miami. You can either enroll in vocational training and pay thousands, or you can do your best with DVDs, books, and the Internet.

Throw ADD into the mix, and things are even worse. The manuals are just plain bad, and on top of that, they’re boring, so I have to read every page over and over. I can tell my attention span is getting worse with age.

Regardless, I’ll beat it. All I have to do is conquer the powder measure. People are telling me they get consistent pistol charges with the rifle meter. I admire their skill. I’m getting +/- 0.5 grains on a 5-grain charge. I don’t know if it’s humidity, or stubborn bits of the manufacturer’s greasy film, or what. But it ain’t working, and I would rather spend another 70 bucks than keep beating my head against the wall. I do know I’m not the only one who has this problem.

It seems like reloading–like shooting–is an art, and I think that is the source of many of my problems. I expect cut-and-dried solutions, and everyone else is relying on experience and creativity.

Homebrewing was much easier to learn, and I had no help at all. My first batch of beer was magnificent. And I had to invent my own methods.

Commenters are now telling me things which confirm my fears. You have to work the press handle with a consistent motion. You have to have some vibration to make the powder flow. You have to keep the powder measure loaded up so the weight of the powder moves things along. Art, art, art. Okay, I accept it. It’s not a toaster. You can’t push a button and wait for bullets to come out.

I have this thing set up to where it will work, once the powder issue is fixed. From here on out, I’m going to start applying my own ideas. I’ll quit letting it intimidate me. I think I’ll rig something up to vibrate the powder measure. I may put a Dillon powder checker on the press, even though Hornady makes something less sophisticated which is supposed to do the same basic thing.

The goal of saving money is going to have to be abandoned. I am going to have to do what the manufacturer expects and buy items to make the machine work. Maybe over several years I’ll come out ahead, but for now, it’s expensive. To make four different calibers, I’ll end up spending maybe eleven hundred dollars on equipment. I don’t care. I want control of my ammunition, and I want to understand it. And I am not going to let this silly machine beat me.

I am off to enjoy the rest of my Sunday. Even though I am not where I wanted to be by today, I am doing better than I did last week. My preparation is improving.

Maybe by next Sunday, I’ll have a post up telling how well my ammunition worked.

Ships With Questionable Powder Measure

Once again the reloading press is driving me insane.

The powder measure on the Hornady Lock-N-Load comes covered with grease, which you have to remove. They suggest you use their proprietary product, which they do not include in the package. Way down on page 9 of the powder measure manual (but not the press manual), they say brake cleaner will work. However, that isn’t true. It leaves a residue you have to rinse out with another solvent. The press manual says other solvents will work. Guess what happens when acetone–the cleanest solvent known to man, and the most logical choice–touches the powder measure? It softens the paint and melts the plastic.

I think I finally have all the grease out, and the acetone didn’t damage anything badly enough to keep it from working. But the measure still does not work. When I weigh charges in grains, I get 4.6, 4.6. 4.6, 4.3, 3.8, 5.4…I am ready to kill someone. I can’t get 5.0 to save my life.

I’ve found a lot of other angry Hornady owners on the Internet. Apparently, to make this thing work, you have to have a friend who already owns one, or you have to call their tech line and work on the press while holding the phone to your ear, or you have to spend your life on the Internet, asking other people how to do it. I chose Option 3.

One guy claims the powder measure is worthless for pistol ammunition, because there is some part or other in it that only works for rifles. Other people say to buff the parts. Still others say to run a pound of powder through it to “break it in,” or to run powdered graphite through it. You can probably imagine how much powdered graphite I have lying around, waiting to be run through powder measures.

I finally fixed the indexing problem, after learning that the manual is wrong. Don’t bother me with questions, because I already forgot what I did. Other people have noticed the error. If your press quits indexing right, just screw with the pawl adjustments, see what happens, and take notes.

Okay, I found the pistol part you’re supposed to get for the Hornady powder measure. Someone please explain why they don’t have a boldfaced disclaimer in the manual: “YOU CAN’T LOAD PISTOL ROUNDS WITH THIS PIECE OF CRAP. YOU HAVE TO BUY MORE OF OUR JUNK FIRST!” Some people say it’s okay down to 4 grains. I hope that is true, but I’m going to get the pistol rotor and meter anyway.

Here’s what you need: 1. part no. 50128 – pistol rotor and meter assembly, and 2. part no. 50129 – micrometer for pistol rotor and meter assembly. Am I crazy, or wouldn’t it be better to just tell you this stuff up front?

It’s really nice to get free bullets from Hornady, but so far, trying to get their machine to work has been like a sick torture the Japanese would have inflicted on prisoners of war. The manual is crap. The machine is full of parts you can destroy while trying to follow the instructions for the first time. And when you finally get it set up, you learn that if you really want to do it right, you have to wait another week for parts they didn’t tell you you had to have. And unless the Hornady operation is situated at the bottom of a mine shaft, they must be aware of the misery their new customers suffer.

Harley-Davidson does the same kind of thing. They sell you a bike that only satisfies you until you notice all the crap more experienced riders have put on their bikes, and then you have to go back to HD to buy pimp accessories. BUT a stock Harley runs fine and looks great while you’re waiting for your new stuff to arrive. The Hornady Lock-N-Load…not so much.

I don’t see any way I can use the press until next week. Maybe if I hose it out with spray silicone, it will throw consistent charges. I have a feeling it won’t.

Dillon owners, if your experiences were better than mine have been, feel free to express yourselves in my comments. I ought to sell this thing and buy a Dillon just on the off chance that the suffering would be reduced.

50-Shot Groups Tighten Up

The range treated me fairly well today.

I have fallen in love with the Glock 26, because it has been consistently shooting better for me than my full-size guns. So it’s what I started with today. I started with 25 shots. And things didn’t go all that well. I’m wondering if there is something about the Wolf ammunition I shot last time, that this gun likes. I shot okay today, but it seemed like I could not get in a groove and avoid flyers. Toward the end, this group tightened up.

The second 25 were a little crazy. Sometimes you learn something really valuable while you’re shooting a batch of rounds, but by the time you learn it, the target already looks bad.

I’m using smaller bullseyes now. They’re cheaper, and the big ones were a waste at 7 yards, because I only used the middle.

The SW1911 treated me very well today. I started with Federal ammunition, which I liked a lot. This is 20 shots. Don’t ask me why it’s not 25. I lost count somehow. More than once, I stopped shooting to make sure the barrel was clear, because the bullet literally went through the same hole as the one before it. That also happened with the Glock. I actually opened it up and sighted down the inside of the barrel. That was a satisfying sensation. If only I could do it consistently.

Here is the rest of the box. I held one back so I could use it to compare to my reloads.

After that, I shot 49 rounds of CCI ammunition I bought from the range. I liked it a lot, but it seemed like the first few shots went crazy. I wonder if that was me, adjusting to new ammunition. I held back a second round.

I was very happy with the .45 today. I felt like I improved my sight picture as well as my trigger pull and the way I gripped the gun with the weak fingers of my right hand. That last item makes a big difference.

The wind was insane, as usual. I had trouble with the target rocking back and forth, but I think I managed not to shoot while it was moving.

Some guy had a big box of Winchester .45 ammunition, and he was shooting the whole thing. Guess who got his brass? BAH HA HA. I score!

Another idyllic afternoon, in the pre-Hillary bloom of American conservatism.

In other news, Chris Muir is bringing the Colt nuts down on his head.

Chametz Banished

I had to practice a little law today. What a drag. But now it’s over, and I get to go back to farting around.

Against what passes for my better judgment, I decided to try to grow off-season tomatoes again. Hey, no! Don’t leave! I can do it! I’m positive! I just have to shoot them with copper and daconil twice a week.

I’ve figured something out. Miami tomatoes don’t like containers. At least, they don’t like my containers. I think keeping the moisture level right is just too hard. The tomatoes I grew in the ground last year looked better. Maybe I need to buy that super moisture-control dirt they sell, or maybe I need mulch. But I’ve decided to put tomatoes in the ground one more time and see what happens. In the past, they were the only plants that did any good.

I went to Winn-Dixie today, with a loaded pistol in my pocket, to buy pork and score more bottles of kosher-for-Passover Coke. WD is kind of ghetto, but now that Publix is attacking our civil rights with a draconian lawsuit, I no longer feel welcome to stroll their aisles as an armed citizen in search of tasty saturated fat.

I grabbed 8 bottles of Coke, bringing my stash to over 20. And to keep me from keeling over on the way home, I bought two protein bars and a Coke Zero. I kept looking at it in the little cooler case, thinking, “It CAN’T be as bad as I remember.” Oh, yes it can. How can people stand this crap? It tastes like window cleaner.

I was accosted on the way in and out by pushy volunteers collecting for something called DARE. I think they teach gang kids to play tetherball or something. Whatever. I almost never give money to charities that accost me on the street. Any moron can empty a chicken bucket and walk around in traffic trying to get people to put money in it. “Oh, uh, it’s for the Dalai Lama’s bladder surgery. No, really. And bunnies with cancer. Look, just give me a dollar before the liquor store closes.”

Here is my tip for the DARE volunteers. Annoy people going into the store or people going out. But not BOTH. Because they are the SAME PEOPLE. If I didn’t give you money before going in and finding out how much the ethanol scam has jacked up the price of my food, chances are, I won’t give you money after I pay an indirect ransom to Al Gore and the rest of the corn crooks.

I bought a bag of jasmine rice on a whim. Certain types of rice were flat-out missing, and I wanted some jasmine or basmati rice, and all they had was a four-pound bag. I have no idea what I’ll do with four pounds, but I can’t help it. I panicked. I was going to do something with lamb, but I’m not sure what.

It cost $4.69. When you imagine it prepared with water and swollen to its fully cooked size, you realize it’s still not a bad deal.

I should try to make some .45 rounds for tomorrow. I may be dragging my buddy Pat and his brother Mario to the range. They can drive me to the hospital if I weigh the powder wrong.

Hope your day is shaping up as well as the remainder of mine.

Hence Their Irrelevant Prefab Response

I complained to Wal-Mart about their efforts to disarm their employees and the employees of thousands of other companies and render them vulnerable to predators while traveling to and from work. This is their response:

Dear Stephen,

Wal-Mart understands its role as a leading, responsible retailer in the U.S. and is making strides to strengthen its already existing security processes to help combat illegal gun activity in the communities we serve. Wal-Mart has a long and proud history of offering the products hunters and outdoorsmen want and need and that will not change.

It is important to note that these procedures should not impede law-abiding citizens from purchasing firearms at our stores that sell them. These processes merely provide us, as a retailer, an additional mechanism to assist law enforcement when illegal activity occurs.

We are hopeful these enhanced processes with help from law enforcement and other retailers committing to do the same can make a positive difference in our communities.

Thank you,
Wal-Mart Customer Relations

This is obviously a boilerplate response they send out to anyone who seems like a “gun kook.” It has absolutely nothing to do with what I complained about. I wrote them about Wal-Mart’s sponsorship of a lawsuit to overturn HB503, a law which enables employees to carry arms in their private vehicles.

I am sick of hearing about “hunters and outdoorsmen.” That’s liberal propaganda. Obama uses those words, and he’s a gun-hating, anti-second-amendment nut of the first water. The second amendment is not about shooting rabbits. It’s about defending yourself from criminals and tyrants. It’s about SHOOTING PEOPLE. Sorry to put it that way, but that’s the truth.

Hunting is important, but it’s trivial compared to the second amendment’s true objective.

I can walk in and out of Wal-Mart all day with a pistol in my pocket, legally. Publix Supermarkets is co-sponsoring this anti-civil-rights legislation, but I carry a pistol into and out of Publix several times a week. Yet they want to fix it so their employees can’t have weapons outside in their glove compartments. Does that make sense? How would you like to be a battered wife with a ludicrous restraining order, raising kids on Wal-Mart pay, and have to drive to work without a gun in your car? I assure you, there are women in that situation right now, and Wal-Mart could not care less.

Statistics tell us about 7% of shootings at businesses are perpetrated by employees or ex-employees. That shows that the threat from these people is much, much lower than the threat from the general public. What it doesn’t tell us is how many of those shootings would have been prevented by allowing permit holders to carry at work. If I went nuts tomorrow and decided to shoot up a business, which would I pick? Gun-free Wal-Mart, or Jorge Garcia’s strip-mall liquor store, with the 12-gauge under the counter? See if you can guess.

As I’ve said before, it’s just plain stupid to think that an employee will be worried about breaking a company rule and getting fired, when he’s breaking that rule in the process of committing a stack of violent felonies. Employees who want to shoot up businesses will do so, regardless of whether it means receiving pink slips later in the month. When you walk in the door at your place of business and start shooting your coworkers, it’s safe to assume you’ve decided your job isn’t working out, and that you’re ready to move on. Some might go so far as to call it a constructive resignation.

In a “going postal” situation, the violent employee is about as concerned about being fired as he is about being fined for littering the parking lot with spent casings. Does anyone seriously believe Lee Harvey Oswald regretted losing his job at the schoolbook depository?

Do you realize what these rules mean? They mean that when I’m carrying at Wal-Mart, and a violent criminal comes in and starts trouble, the best hope this giant, well-heeled corporation has of avoiding a bloody catastrophe is ME. How would you like to have to rely on a fat old lawyer to shoot a lunatic while you cringe behind a girdle display? Let me warn you in advance: don’t count on much. My behind will be the first one out the door, if at all possible, and once it’s outside, it and my Glock will stay there.

God bless the NRA. I used to think they were extreme, but that was before I got to know the enemy. Extreme is the way to go. We have to push these pansy freaks back to the point where fighting them is like fighting terror in Afghanistan instead of letting it happen in America. We can’t retreat and concede until we find ourselves reduced to the nominal right to keep unloaded long guns in locked boxes under our beds, like the pathetic folks in DC. We have to keep pushing them back, nearly to the point where they have to mount lawsuits to prevent us from carrying on airplanes. The second amendment frontier is like the border of Israel. We need to keep it as far out as possible, so our enemies will have a terribly difficult job, fighting their way to the point where they can attack our most vital rights.

Pony up to Fight Him

According to the NRA, Wal-Mart, Disney, and Publix Supermarkets are helping fund a lawsuit to have HB503 overturned. This is the new law that permits Florida citizens to keep arms in their cars for self-defense, regardless of their employers’ backward anti-gun policies.

You can contact Publix at this URL.

You can contact Wal-Mart at this URL.

You can donate to the NRA-ILA at this URL.

Feel free to post an appropriate Disney link or email address in my comments. I couldn’t find one.

Let your voice be heard.

More

Five states have passed laws like HB503. Here is a fact sheet debunking the BS.

Uncle Wiggily Meets his Match

I have to go crank up the DVR. Tred Barta has a new episode. Guess what he’s doing? He’s using a longbow to hunt TINY LITTLE BUNNY RABBITS.

God, I love this guy.