No Primers

I am now firmly convinced that the reloading press came with a complimentary curse.

Today I stuck the new pistol rotor on it, adjusted it a few times, and got it to work to within +/- 0.1 grains. I nearly wet myself.

I put the decapping and sizing die back in (it was out because it would have removed the primer from the case I used to weigh charges), and I ran a case through. And the ram got stuck halfway down. What the hell? After adjusting the pawls over and over?

Turns out the pawls may have been okay. The decapping die may have caused my problem. If you fail to knock a primer all the way out, it will obstruct the motion of the shell plate. So it’s just like having a hinky pawl. I’m not sure what the story is. I’m fairly certain the shell plate stuck when I had no cases in it, which wouldn’t happen if the decapping die was the problem.

Anyway, I somehow managed to ram a casing into the sizing die in a way that the press didn’t pull it back down. And guess what? Removing a case from a sizing die without a press to help you is surprisingly hard. I bought some Imperial sizing wax, but I’m not using it yet. It tastes very nice, however.

I got everything going again, adjusted the die, and started making bullets. I thought. When I checked the first two, they had no primers. Everything is working except the priming thing. And I can’t find anything in the manual about “Why your new bullets have no primers.” That wonderful manual, that the smug reloading mystics said was so complete. I don’t see anything in there about primers obstructing the shell plate, either. I guess I’m the first person it ever happened to, in the history of progressive presses.

I used the right punch. I put 25 primers in the tube, facing the right way. The shell plate appears to be indexing correctly over the punch.

Guess I’ll figure it out later. I assume it’s okay to prime the primerless rounds once I figure it out.

Hope to be shooting on Monday.

Mr. Articulate One Step Closer to Oval Office

Looks like poor Mrs. Clinton is in trouble for saying white people like her. Oddly, the trouble has not amounted to much. Perhaps that’s because, at this point, what happens to her is about as significant as what happens to Chris Dodd.

Someone needs to make a 3 a.m. call. And they need to say “Go back to sleep.”

I’m surprised that, as the wife of a black man, Mrs. C hasn’t been more popular among black people. It must be that “black man’s Kryptonite” thing. White women take all the successful black men. Clarence Thomas. Worf. Okay, I can’t think of all that many. But couldn’t Hillary have let a sister have the first black President?

Maybe Mrs. C needs to pay a visit to Black People Love Us and find out what she’s doing wrong. Maybe blacks are mad at her because she gave up on that cool African-American accent she was working on a while back. I was totally down with that. I was hoping she’d get herself some dreads and start drinking Pepsi.

Where would Pepsi be today without black people? White people only drink it when they have no choice. You know. You get to the picnic late, and there’s that warm bottle of Pepsi, rolling around in the melting ice at the bottom of the cooler.

Pepsi and menthol cigarettes. That’s what Hillary needs. If she could only learn to scat with a Kool in her hand.

I think the point of Black People Love Us is to help white people understand that no matter how hard we try to become black, we will never quite make it. With one exception. And his luck didn’t rub off on his wife.

Like Bill Cosby used to say, “Rat own, rat own.”

Not sure how that’s relevant to anything.

Busy day today. Marv may manage to blog.

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.

Readers Stolen by Squawking Turncoat

There is a traitor in my midst. I got up today and checked my blog comments, and then I went to The Answer Bird to see if anyone commented on Marv’s latest post. The score? Marv 8, me 0.

For this, I fed him for six weeks with a spoon. For this, I let him eat my quilt and climb on my head to give my hair his special brand of conditioner.

How sharper than a serpent’s tooth. That’s all I have to say. I should get him some Blogads and make him pay for his own toys.

Maynard is his co-conspirator. I know how these things work. They pretend to be at odds, but in private, they share a common goal. Overtake the human’s traffic and crush him like Stalin.

Hey, if you love them so much, go read their silly blog. I don’t need you. All I need is this ashtray. And this paddle game. And these matches.

Why are you still here? Bird lovers.

In other news, my father’s friends have him all excited about the Sebastian area. That’s Sebastian, Florida. Where you will find the Sebastian Inlet. Here’s an odd thing about the east coast of Florida. It has an ocean. And you would think people would really, really want to be able to run their boats into the ocean. So you would expect a whole bunch of man-made channels through the barrier islands. However, there is a huge stretch between Cape Canaveral and Sebastian Inlet, with no ocean access whatsoever, except for people on the barrier islands. So if you want a waterfront home with an in-water boat, you pretty much have to stay within 10 miles of the Cape or the Inlet. Weird. You would think someone would start building channels, and there would be a real estate boom, because people would want homes with ocean access. But it doesn’t look like that’s happening. So my father’s friends have urged him to home-shop in the area of the Inlet.

I wonder if the greenies are at the root of this situation. They freak out whenever anyone cuts a mangrove tree to build a channel. You would think mangrove trees bore fruit full of diamonds, but in truth, they’re useless, except for smoking fish. The greenies managed to get protection for the mangroves by claiming fish reproduced in them. Then we found out the fish reproduce out on the reefs. So now we’re stuck with millions of acres of steaming, bug-infested, worthless mangroves. Fish may not breed in them, but mosquitoes and tiny gnats that descend in clouds and cover people in stinging bites sure do.

If the greenies had been around a thousand years ago, humanity would have died out completely, from famine, disease, exposure, and overwork. Just the way people do now, in places where normal human progress hasn’t taken place. And that would have made the greenies very happy.

With any luck, we’ll shoot up that way soon and see what’s what. I had this idea of getting a house in that general region, and then he decided he liked the idea, too, and his budget is bigger, so the plan is to establish a compound.

I’m still trying to figure out why people are willing to pay three times as much for similar properties in Miami. A palace on the water, with a giant boat dock, in a place with better weather, nicer people, and less traffic. OR a comparatively tiny inland house in the rudeness and traffic capital of the universe. Is that a hard choice? I guess one answer is that property appreciates faster here. I don’t know if that will be the case in the future. My theory is that the Internet is going to make it unnecessary for people to clump up so much in big cities. If you can work from a nice place instead of Manhattan or Atlanta or whatever, why not do it? Maybe ten years from now, the little communities will be more desirable than the big ones. If you’re within an hour of a mall and you have an Internet hookup, you are connected to society. You don’t need to be any closer.

When I was a kid, my sister said Miami was unpleasant because it attracted aggressive people. Her theory was that it was highly desirable due to its geographical features, so pushy people would naturally want to live there, just as they want the first five rows at a concert. I think she may have been right.

What else is happening? Drudgebart.tv.com links to a story about implanted Bluetooth devices which can alert medical personnel when people are having heart attacks. That’s just stupid. That’s not the highest, best use of these things. What you need is a device that senses drops in blood sugar, orders you a pizza, and gives the driver your location. As usual, I have to explain the obvious.

Oh, man. Marv just got two more comments. This bird aggression will not stand, man.

The Perch is on the Other Foot

This is a rare occasion. Today the Answer Bird asks YOU a question.

Bad News Filters Out

I am reading about the effects of Typhoon Nargis. Unbelievable. They’re saying 22,000 dead and 40,000 missing. And in Myanmar, my guess is that “missing” means “probably dead.”

I looked up the wind speed. It topped out at 120 miles per hour. In Miami, that’s three days without power and one or two deaths. It’s amazing how different things are in other countries.

Interesting passage from Wikipedia:

The Christian populations do, however, face religious persecution and it is hard, if not impossible, for non-Buddhists to join the army or get government jobs, the main route to success in the country. Such persecution and targeting of civilians is particularly notable in Eastern Burma, where over 3000 villages have been destroyed in the past ten years.

Here’s something from Persecution.org:

Christian persecution is occurring because it is an ethnic issue. Two of the main minority groups are predominantly Christian while the majority of Burma and the majority of the other five minority groups are Buddhist. The government, afraid of the growing collaboration between the minority states, is currently attempting to use religion to re-divide the minority groups. The army offers soldiers 6,000 kyats (their currency) worth of rice to marry a Christian Karenni woman to try to dilute the ethnic group and destroy the culture of the Karenni, which is Christian.

Playing the religion card politically, Buddhism is slightly more tolerated than Christianity. However, Burmese expert, Benedict Rogers told a story of a Burmese army commander, after leading many attacks on Karen villages, summed up the junta’s philosophy when he said, after urinating on the head of a Buddhist monk: “I do not respect any religion. My religion is the trigger of my gun”. (Catholic Herald Jan. 24, 2003).

Anyway, World Vision is helping. If you want to donate, here’s a new link.

More

Some hope that Christian relief money will help reduce hostility to Christianity in Myanmar.

Last year, the government there embarked on an official campaign to eradicate Christianity.

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.

Bad

I assume everyone has heard that the cyclone in Myanmar (formerly Burma) is believed to have killed 10,000 people. And Laura Bush just said something about the military leadership refusing to take US aid. I don’t know if that’s correct, but I do know that you can get money to Myanmar via World Vision, at this link.

If you’re looking for something to pray about today, this is it.

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?

Wrong

Over at The Answer Bird, Marv explains why parrots bob their heads.

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.