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.