New Baby on the Way

I guess it’s silly to put up a blog post right after putting up a blog post, but my giddiness can’t be restrained. The USPS says my Colt Woodsman pistol has arrived at a local pawn shop.

Why send it to a pawn shop?

I used Gunbroker to find the gun, and Gunbroker connects buyers with dealers who have federal firearms licenses (“FFL’s”). The dealer I chose runs a pawn shop which is also a gun shop.

When you buy a gun, you have to do a federal background check, and you need a licensee for that.

I’m going to take my reading glasses this time. There is a long form to fill out, and a year or two ago, I checked the wrong box. I checked a box for something like, “I am buying this weapon so I can shoot up Congress.” There were two YES and NO boxes, and I checked the wrong one. Fortunately, a clerk corrected the error before the nerve gas drones and the guy wearing a single rubber glove arrived.

I’m not sure why the feds would write a form that allowed people to affirm that they were felons. What kind of idiot would do that?

Okay. I did it. But who would do it intentionally?

Now I remember what the form said. It said I was buying the gun for someone else, which is a felony. Slim chance of that happening. I want all the guns for myself.

If you use Gunbroker, and you choose one of their licensees, you need to put the seller and licensee together the day you buy the gun. Gunbroker is supposed to do it, but they screw up. Don’t wait like I did.

I think I’ve solved my .22 ammo problem for the short term, not that I really had a problem. A few years back, Obama’s amazing gun-selling skills resulted in a .22 drought that was unprecedented in scale. It seemed to be impossible to get .22 LR anywhere. I was scarred by the experience, so I always feel like I have a shortage.

Anyway, I found bulk CCI 36-grain Mini-mags on sale. The price wasn’t phenomenal, but I doubt I’ll see a better one.

CCI makes great stuff, even though their factory looks like it was set up in someone’s mom’s garage.

The ammo is signature ammo. It has a picture of reality star Troy something or other on the box. He’s a Cajun, and he has a side job shooting alligators. His show is called Swamp People. He zips around the swamps in a little boat, gathering gators that have bitten down on chicken legs on big shark hooks. The gators don’t like being pulled into the boat, so Troy and his pals shoot them in the head.

Troy yells, “Choot ‘im,” when it’s time to kill a gator. CCI has put “CHOOT ‘EM,” which isn’t really correct, on the boxes in big letters. So now I have a few thousand CHOOT ‘EMs on the way. Should keep me going for quite a while, and they’re not as dirty as the cheap Remington rounds I now shoot.

I’m hoping the CHOOT ‘EMs are more accurate than Remington Golden Bullets. If so, I can use up the Remingtons on close work where accuracy doesn’t matter, or I can make them my guest ammo.

I watched a little bit of the show last night. It’s a fun show, but how many times can you watch people go up to the bank of a swamp and shoot a gator in the head?

I felt bad for the gators. Fish are stupid and incrediby insensitive, so they don’t suffer a lot when they’re hooked or gaffed, but it’s disturbing to see a reptile with a big hook in its mouth or its side. They’re pretty tasty, though, and they make fantastic wallets.

Golden Bullets are perfectly okay, but the propellant is dirty, and they seem to misfire a lot. Maybe a couple of rounds out of a hundred. That’s just a guess.

MidwayUSA is selling CHOOT ‘EMs for 20% off, which is not bad.

The pawn shop called, and the gun has arrived, so color me happy. Next, I need a nickel-plated 1903 hammerless pistol in .32 ACP or .380, and then I need to put pearl grips on it, simply because George Patton didn’t like them.

I also have a bunch of pistol primers on the way. I remember how hard it was to get them when Obama was in office. What a horrible, incompetent president.

Can’t wait to see the Woodsman. Someone stole the one my grandfather and I used to shoot together, so this gun means closure.

All right, Mr. DeMille. I’m ready for my background check.