He is no Rodney King

Today Marv gives his thoughts on peace. When it comes to making peace, Marv is nearly as smart as Jimmy Carter.

Semi-Rural is the Way to Go

I am dying here.

I can’t quit looking at real estate. Like I keep saying, I want to get out of Miami and get some land under me. And I infected my father with the bug, so he wants to buy, too. At first, I was looking for a moderately priced place for myself, and it turned out my unimpressive money would buy a magnificent place, as long as I got away from the Miami area. Now that the old man is involved, the plan is for him to buy a place big enough for both of us. And he can spend a lot more than I can, so the options are just plain sick. I can’t believe how inflated Miami prices are. For the price of a pretty nice Miami house on a smallish lot, you can have a bona fide compound in Indian River County.

My dad likes waterfront. I like inland properties. I used to be a rabid fisherman, but these days I don’t care if I ever fish again. I suppose that’s because it’s so much work. And it’s hard to get my friends to go, and I’m always the only person on the boat who knows how to do anything, so I run around like a slave all day, tying knots and showing people how to use the toilets and fixing stuff in the 150-degree engine room. Ideally, when you have a big boat, you end up with a regular crew of friends who know how to take the burden off of you, but my situation isn’t like that. Most of my friends are very helpful with cleaning up the boat after we dock, but that’s about all they know how to do. And some of them hide when it’s time to work. So when we fish, it’s a vacation for my father and my guests, but it’s two days of hard work for me.

I just found a 10-acre place in Vero Beach for an asking price of $350,000. Looks like it’s a former citrus grove, a few miles from the water. I can’t believe that. Ten acres! House included! I guess if you live in Iowa or Wisconsin, you’re wondering why I’m excited. I just found a couple of similar properties near Miami. Asking prices? One is $1.75 million, and the other is $2.7 million.

I guess there is no point in looking at it, since my father wants to get a place. But damn, what a difference between Miami and the rest of the state.

Think of all the stuff you could do on 10 acres. I wonder if I could shoot out there. Maybe, if I built a berm. Maybe I should get my own place, not too far from his, and divide my time between them. I don’t want him to be alone at his age.

I don’t know if the current economic problems are going to last. But I suspect that even if things bounce back for a while, we’re eventually headed for tough times. And if that happens, a city will be the last place you want to be.

I remember my grandmother telling me that in eastern Kentucky, people didn’t really notice the Depression. They were poor before and poor after, but the whole time, they had good food, shelter, and stability. Meanwhile, in cities, people lined up at soup kitchens. It would give me tremendous comfort to know that I could have a garden, some chickens, and a few hogs if I needed them. And the climate a hundred and fifty miles north of here is considerably better. Miami is a bit like Los Angeles. Only livable because technology allows us to conquer the inherent inhospitableness of the environment. If you couldn’t have air conditioning around the clock here, plus malathion trucks, living here would be torture.

I think real estate will continue to tank for at least six months. The supply of new housing and foreclosures is just too big, and a lot of new places are not available for occupancy yet. Once they are, rent prices will collapse, and that has to affect sale prices. But sooner or later it will be safe to shop.

Grocers Outgun Armed Doofus

Looks like Drudgebart.tv.com is taking over the NRA’s “Armed Citizen” shtick. Today it links to a story about an incident in which the owner of a grocery store successfully drove off an armed nut.

According to the Palm Beach Post, AKA “The Shiny Sheet,” one Marshall Hugo Grant is alleged to have drawn his gun on a grocery manager during some sort of dispute. The manager and an assistant manager drew their pieces as well, and Grant chickened out and ran into the parking lot, firing as he went. The grocery guys convinced him to hand over his weapon, and they held him until the cops arrived. They didn’t have to fire a shot.

Hurray, hurray. Concealed carry works once again. Neither of the good guys was injured, and the alleged crook went to jail.

I can hear the whiners now. “But the problem was caused by concealed carry, because Grant had a gun.” Uh…NO. Grant was not a law-abiding citizen, carrying with a state-issued license. He was just an immature boob who went around with a gun in his pocket, for the sake of pushing people around and being a big man. How do I know this? Because he was charged with carrying a concealed weapon. This is an impossibility, if you have a permit. The store people were not charged, proving their guns were legal.

It’s a perfect example of how privately held guns are supposed to work. A criminal has a concealed weapon, and he uses it to commit a crime. A law-abiding permit holder surprises him with a legal firearm. The criminal loses.

If not for the armed manager and assistant manager, two or more innocent people might be dead today. Instead, the system scooped a troublemaker off the streets. Added bonus: every dirtbag in the vicinity of this store will know about the guns, and when they decide to rob business in order to buy drugs, they’ll cross this grocery off their list. And decent people will know it’s a relatively safe place to shop.

Concealed carry is a wonderful thing. Open carry would be better, but it seems like Sigmund Freud was involved in the drafting of our permit laws, because concealed is the rule. When you go about your business with a weapon at your disposal, you have tremendous peace of mind, because you know the odds that you will be harmed by a criminal are much, much lower than they ordinarily would be. You can’t use it to end arguments or to prevent people from being rude to you, as Mr. Grant should have known, but you stand a very good chance of preventing yourself and those around you from being injured, raped, robbed, or killed.

In self-defense situations, martial arts are a joke. The cops are slow. Pepper spray doesn’t work on drug addicts or people who are really angry. If begging worked, a lot of people who are now dead would still be alive. But the mere presence of a firearm can save lives. It happens every day, countless times, across America. Guns even save the lives of criminals, by discouraging them from engaging.

If you’re afraid to carry, you’re saying you trust a criminal to show mercy, more than you trust yourself to be responsible.

Does that make sense to you?

Gun-violence agitators should be happy, because Grant no longer has a gun, and in the future, he will not be allowed to own one. But if logic appealed to these folks, they wouldn’t be what they are.

New Peppers

My tomatoes elicit nothing but pity and ridicule. However, I do quite well with peppers.

Here are the habanero gold peppers I grew from seed. Some are ready to pick.

Here’s a yellow habanero, for comparison. Yellow habaneros are fairly big for habaneros, so this will give you an idea how big the others are. The habanero golds are about the size of Clementines, and they get even bigger.

As I’ve noted before, I don’t think “habanero gold” is an authentic variety. I found these peppers at Norman Bros. Produce, a yuppie vegetable market here in Miami, and “habanero gold” is what it said on the bin. Store owners often mislabel peppers. I’ve never seen anything like these, online or in stores.

If you can grow only one type of really hot pepper, this would be a good choice. They’re big. They look great. And they’re super sweet. The first time I bit into one, I thought I was in for a sweet, fruity, mild pepper. Then my eyes exploded in their sockets. I exaggerate; they’re hot, but not hotter than other habaneros. They’re fantastic sliced on chili.

I’m also very happy with my cayennes, on the milder side. Sweet as candy, and mild enough to eat out of hand. You wouldn’t want to eat a handful without a glass of water, but they don’t compare to chinense peppers. A while back I ground some into a paste and fried them in oil with garlic, salt, and sugar. Man, that was good.

I have maybe a thousand prig ki nus. They’re great, but I don’t know what to do with them.

More

Hey, pepper heads. My Trinidad scorpion bush is starting to bear. It blew past the habanero gold, and it’s going to be a monster. Envy me, losers.

Next: Assembling Pipe Bombs While Wearing Mittens

I spent maybe an hour and a half working on reloading today, and that’s all I can take. I had to quit.

I got the dies set up the way I like them. That meant the next job was fixing the powder measure. The manual is a pamphlet. Naturally, it’s useless. You have to look at the powder measure and figure out how it works.

The one thing the manual is good for is reminding you to clean out the copious film of grease Hornady puts on things to prevent rust. This stuff will prevent powder from flowing. So you have to completely disassemble the measure and clean each individual part. With what? Why, with a Hornady product that doesn’t come with the press or the measure, of course! Some crap I would have to mail-order, taking a week and costing ten bucks in shipping. But they suggest alternatives, right? Uh…NO.

I tried what I had on hand. Carb cleaner and brake cleaner left a residue that took forever to evaporate, so I followed up with acetone, which seems to remove it. They even have grease on the funnel part of the measure, which is painted. Go figure. I wish I could describe how hard it is to get a swab into this part of the measure. I’m contemplating duct-taping a shotgun swab to the end of a gun-cleaning rod.

I thought I had the whole thing clean, but when I tried using the measure, my weights went 5.4, 6.1, 5.9…

I took everything apart again, and while I was wiping the little tiny funnel that puts powder in the cartridge, it slipped out of my hands and hit the concrete floor. Naturally, it’s dinged up. Will it affect the powder flow? I’ll find out soon. Maybe I can find a way to buff it out. This is one more occasion for kicking myself for not having a drill press.

Another fun problem has developed. Sometimes the shell plate refuses to drop into place after an operation. It goes about halfway down. The manual–here is a shock–doesn’t address this in its tiny troubleshooting section. There is some vague language about indexing and pawls in there. When the plate doesn’t register correctly, adjust the pawls! How? Hmm…just ADJUST those boogers! So I may have some more trial and error in front of me. I may have to call Hornady.

I can’t find anything in the manual about installing the spent primer tube. I keep looking at the press, trying to find a nipple to attach it to, but I haven’t found it. I guess I’m going to have to start running brass through it to see where the primers squirt out.

I hope the press is durable, because it’s taking a monstrous beating already, and I haven’t loaded a single round.

The recipes are confusing. I keep reading warnings. “Don’t switch primers!” But when I got my loading info from Laser-Cast, it listed a bunch of primers as though they were interchangeable. Hope they’re right. If they are, I paid WAY too much for my primers. I couldn’t get them locally.

Here’s the plan. Laser-Cast 230-grain round-nose bullets. OAL: 1.260″. Charge: 5 grains Unique. Primer: Federal 150. Oddly, another recipe says 5 grains and an OAL of 1.190. That seems like a big difference. The second recipe is from the Alliant Powder site. But it doesn’t specify the type of bullet very well. It just says lead 230-grain target. For all I know, they mean wadcutters.

Here is good news. You don’t really have to seek prompt medical attention when you get brake cleaner in your eye. Don’t ask me how I know.

I’m wondering if I have to measure all my brass. I was hoping the resizing die would make it uniform, but I don’t know. Guess I’ll find out.

The really maddening thing is that I have to test the ammunition, and I can’t do it without a trip to the range. I think I should go ahead and make 50 rounds. I would rather disassemble them and start over than waste a trip to the range. And the damned things ought to work, shouldn’t they? A low-pressure round, in a standard barrel? I don’t think I’m tempting fate, here.

Maybe tomorrow my first completed round will roll into the collection bin. But I would not bet the rent on it.

ACLU Continues Expanding the Frontiers of Wrongness

Liberalism is a bizarre melange, combining totalitarianism in some areas of life with mindless anarchy in others. I guess, then, it makes sense that liberal California is in hot water for threatening to check its existing DNA database against crime scene samples, to see if they can find relatives of unknown criminals. And Moxie is in favor of it. Naturally, because it involves common sense and the possibility of jailing violent criminals, the ACLU is considering opposing it.

I don’t see what the fuss is all about. The idea works like this. California already has a database. They’re not going to force random citizens to become part of it. When they have DNA belonging to a person involved in a crime, and they don’t know who that person is, they plan to compare it to the database DNA to see if they can locate relatives. They hope information on relatives can point them in the direction of the unknown persons. I don’t say “criminals,” because I suppose it’s possible to find DNA from an unknown victim or witness.

To simplify, it looks like California is planning to look at information it already has, in order to solve crimes. Is that considered draconian now? Are they supposed to pretend they don’t have the information? I know I’m getting forgetful, but we do want to solve crimes, right?

This is kind of like the way we solved the world’s energy problems with safe, cheap, clean nuclear power, and then went on to mope about how we had no solution to the energy crisis.

I don’t have much sympathy for the folks whose DNA is already in the machine. I’ve been fingerprinted over and over, even though I’ve never been charged with a crime, and you can bet the government will use my records against me if they ever get the chance. I have a few government-issued licenses which required me to submit fingerprints. If I have no right to complain, why should I listen to people whose information entered the system because they’re burglars and rapists?

The Florida Board of Bar Examiners has forced me and everyone else who has taken the bar exam to leave a thumbprint on the test papers. That’s much more degrading than having your fluids tested after you leave them on a bedspread belonging to a twelve-year-old.

If the ACLU wants to sue to get my fingerprints deleted from the government’s computers, maybe I’ll listen. Until then, shaddup.

Yesterday’s sabbath or Lord’s Day or whatever was great. I read the books of Colossians and Thessalonians I, and I got through Genesis up to the point where they loaded up the truck and moved to Egypt, and I read about the Jewish holidays in Rabbi Eckstein’s book, How Firm a Foundation.

I’ve been trying to figure out how strict the sabbath should be. For Jews, there is a list of 39 types of activity which are totally forbidden, starting, of course, with “rolling on shabbos.” But Paul cautioned about forced observance of the sabbath. The theory behind Christianity is that the Holy Spirit writes God’s laws on your heart, helping you to decide what is right or wrong. However, that doesn’t happen overnight, and it doesn’t make you infallible, and it doesn’t mean you do whatever you want. And you’re expected to read the Bible a lot, to draw guidance. And it’s obvious that a good Christian will observe a fair amount of the law, regardless of whether he is considered totally bound by it. You can’t murder. You can’t commit adultery. And those are commandments; parts of the law. At the very least, I would expect a Christian to observe the Noachide Laws, which are so clearly correct, it would be impossible for a person who believes in God to dispute their validity.

I figure it’s okay to deal with an earthly need once in a while, as long as it’s not a significant distraction. Or if you just need a break. At one point I picked up some groceries, and I also took a few minutes to blast my sick mamey tree with copper spray. I think that’s all right. You’ll go cross-eyed if you just sit and stare at the Bible all day.

Let me recommend The Spirit-Filled Bible once again. The explanatory material is like a built-in Talmud, helping you figure out what’s going on.

I also wonder if it’s okay, on the sabbath, to give alms and offerings and so on. I assume it is, since every church in America passes the collection plate on Sundays. Jews don’t handle money on the sabbath. I read somewhere that they may give offerings the day before, prior to sundown. But that doesn’t work too good on a schedule in which days begin in the morning. You’d make an offering and then eat dinner and go to bed, and then like sixteen hours later, the sabbath would begin, pretty well breaking the connection between sabbath and offering.

Speaking of Rabbi Eckstein, he is letting Jimmy Carter have it. Highlights follow. Hat tip to Stand for Israel.

After his meetings with Hamas, Carter immediately began trumpeting his accomplishments. At a press conference in Jerusalem, he assured the world that “There’s no doubt that both the Arab world and Hamas will accept Israel’s right to exist in peace within 1967 borders.”

Khaled Mashaal, who Carter met with just days before, immediately contradicted Carter. “We agree to a (Palestinian) state on pre-67 borders,” he said, “with Jerusalem as its capital with genuine sovereignty without settlements but without recognizing Israel.”

Behind all of this, of course, lies a larger reality that Carter seems determined to ignore. Hamas is a terrorist organization. The primary reason for its existence is the elimination of Israel. As long as Hamas holds this position, any efforts at peacemaking are doomed to failure.

Read the rest yourself.

This guy is starting to look like Emperor Palpatine. I don’t know how anyone can look at his record and not come away with the conclusion that he has something against the Jews. It’s a very sad way to end a life of public service. He could have redeemed his failings as President by doing something truly worthwhile in his autumn years. Instead, he is doing everything he can to assure that history views him as an unusually prominent anti-Semite. Were I already past the life expectancy of an American male, I would have my day of judgment on my mind, and I would be very hesitant to persecute God’s people and obstruct the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham.

By the way, am I the only one who has noticed that there seems to be a trend of natural disasters striking places associated with sin? Now Reno is getting hit by earthquakes. I’m sure glad I don’t live in South Beach.

Let’s see what’s happening in the Blogosphere.

First off, something that didn’t actually happen. I had a crazy dream last night. I was at a gathering of bloggers at a university somewhere, and a bunch of us were in a big room, talking. And the actress Michelle Trachtenberg yelled for everyone to be quiet and then asked me to be her prom date. Naturally, I was pretty confused. Then her older sister, Sondra K., said she had no idea what was wrong with her.

This makes Sondra Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Funny, I see her as more like Glorificus.

We did not go to the prom.

Hmm…Agent Bedhead has the hots for the Rock. I love this guy’s work. It really upsets me that his movies have generally crapped out. How is it that Vince McMahon can get better work out of him than a professional movie director?

But I think Agent B. likes him for other reasons.

Beth is upset with Jeremiah Wright. Who can blame her? He’s helping HILLARY CLINTON.

Here’s upsetting news. Michael Bane was in a pistol match, and he shot badly, partly due to a habit of snatching the trigger. I sort of had this hope that with practice, I would quit doing that forever. It’s a bummer, seeing a seasoned shooter do it.

Mr. Minority has a controversial theory as to why terrorists are rude and hostile. I dunno. There may be something to it.

Finally, Kathy Shaidle has encountered a problem which may drain her entire defense fund. However, given that she is being attacked for opposing the Religion of Peace and Terrorism, I kind of like the nature of the items she is considering buying. They would definitely make her yard safer from Muslim kooks.

Ahhh

Shabbat shalom, sort of. I still can’t figure out why so many Christians call Sunday the sabbath, but I think we’re stuck with it.

Thanks for the positive responses to last night’s post. Sorry if the tone was just a tiny bit critical. I was feeling somewhat crabby. I am working to take the crabbiness out of my personality, but I am concerned that once it’s gone, nothing will remain but a big blank space.

Thought I’d point one more thing out. The odd folks who said I had no business buying a progressive reloading press were even more wrong than I suggested last night. None of the problems I’ve had have had anything to do with the nature of the press. Figuring out how the dies work is what drove me crazy, and they’re the same dies you use on a single-stage press. I wondered about the die order, but that wasn’t a major problem.

This is my third observant Sunday in a row. It’s growing on me. I really look forward to it on Friday and Saturday. I guess the Jews are right about giving one day a week to God; if you try it, you may like it. The best thing about it is knowing I have nothing to worry about until tomorrow.

I think I need to simplify food preparation on Sundays. I don’t think I’ll burn for turning on the stove, but spending hours cooking on a Sunday seems like a mistake. I should work harder on Saturday to prepare.

Once again, I encourage you to try this yourself. Christians may not be under the Mosaic law per se, but that doesn’t change the fact that a lot of this stuff is good for you.

My only regret is that I got so close to making ammunition, and now I have to wait until tomorrow. But as sacrifices go, that’s pretty small.

Og says he had a knee operation, so pray that he heals up good. I’m surprised he didn’t fix his knee himself. Probably couldn’t do it because he doesn’t have a Workmate.

I Now Fancy Myself Capable of Vocational Training

I’ve been at a friend’s house all day, celebrating the opening of a magnificent new barbecue area. Val Prieto’s neighbor Pat has been laboring for months, carrying sacks of concrete and wheeling in loads of slate, and now he has a fantastic bar and grill setup in his yard. I kept offering to help, but fortunately Pat never took me up on it. So I got the gain but none of the pain.

Tonight I thought I’d write a bit about mystification. This is one of my many, many pet peeves. It describes the process of greatly exaggerating the difficulty and complexity of something, in order to impress people. An Internet source says the idea is to convey the impression that a subject is “unknowable.” That about sizes it up.

Here’s an example. You decide you want to learn how to make toast. And you have a friend with six months of community college under his belt, and he owns a toaster, and you ask his advice. And instead of saying, “Put the bread in and push the button,” he makes fun of you for thinking YOU of all people could ever learn to make TOAST, and then he tells you to give up and leave it to geniuses like him.

Here’s another example. A blogger named Steve, who has a degree in physics and a law degree, goes completely insane and decides he may be smart enough to learn how to make his own pistol ammunition. And he buys a progressive press, on the theory that single-stage presses are slow and–for this type of work–outmoded. I mean, progressive presses cost more for a reason, correct? And he complains that he is having trouble because the press’s manual is a piece of crap. And some people who already make ammunition respond by being as helpful as they can, but others heap abuse on him and tell him how crazy he was to presume to intrude on the purview of the high-and-mighty few, the nearly-GED-having Illuminati of the gun range, the camo-underpants-wearing Knights Templar of 65th-percentile pistol shooting performed with $3500 custom 1911s baptized in Col. Jeff Cooper’s urine…the established reloaders.

Oh, fool. To think that YOU had intellectual horsepower sufficient to entitle you to skip the ten-year learning curve and apprenticeship period and secret handshake aided by case lube!

Please.

You know what we’re talking about here? The kind of thing they teach in vocational school. You know how that works. “Not college material? Right this way. We’ll learn you how to earn fifty dollars an hour running a milling machine.” Dignified, useful work. Skilled labor. Something to be very proud of. But not rocket science. Not the kind of thing they look for on a MENSA application.

It seems like this happens to me every time I try to do anything new. Oddly, I always succeed anyway. Well, except for the times I’ve tried to grow tomatoes. I guess you have to have a research fellowship at MIT to do that.

Anyway, I emailed Kim du Toit about the supercilious cranks who were blaming me for my problems, and referring to his wife, he said, “Connie has a name for their computer systems incarnation. She calls them ‘mystics’ — people who withhold information from others so that they keep an ‘advantage.’ Mostly, these are insecure people.” And I wondered if she was familiar with the term “mystification,” because if not, it’s a truly wonderful coincidence.

I am reminded of one of the reasons we crushed Saddam Hussein’s gigantic army in about a month. It is said that when his officers and soldiers received information that could be useful to people serving beneath them, they collected it and destroyed it. For example, the army would get some high-tech system or other for tanks, and there would be manuals for each tank, and each tank commander would collect the manuals and throw them out, keeping one copy of each for himself. So nobody could break his rice bowl. He would be the indispensable magical negro everyone could go to when the system went on the fritz. He would be Jeeves. His job was secure, and he looked like a genius to everyone above him, and all the people beneath him looked like morons, because they could not do what he could do. So they were less of a threat. The only down side was that nobody could fix anything. And fighting Saddam’s army was a lot like fighting a herd of angry poodles, half of them in heat.

Not to take anything away from the brave combatants who defeated them. I exaggerate for comic effect. But let’s face it. Pound for pound, Saddam’s troops were pretty sad. There are plenty of smaller armies that would have hurt us much, much worse.

When I take on new skills, I am trying to improve myself. Has that occurred to any of the reloading Operating Thetans? Has it occurred to them that I’m not trying to steal their blinding glory? That my efforts to enlarge my own capabilities are not a direct attack on their status as ballistic deities? I very much doubt it. Clearly, my sole motivation was to emasculate the amazing people who have stunned humanity by learning how to shove a piece of lead into a brass cylinder.

I have a nutty idea. It’s bizarre, but hear me out. My idea is this: when someone has the gumption and the industry to put himself out in order to learn something new, maybe the correct thing is to try to help.

No, it’s too crazy. The world isn’t ready for hubris like that.

I can’t rewire human nature. I know it’s useless to complain. People will always be this way. A man who can see a quarter-inch past the end of his own nose is a true visionary.

I’ll tell you this. I’m going to win. You can’t prevent me from learning how to make ammunition. And then I’m going to salt the wound by learning to shoot better than you. Regardless of the fact that Jeff Cooper never peed on any of my pistols. I’ll do it without camo. I’ll do it without patches on my jacket. I’ll do it without target sights. With mass-produced guns. I’ll do it as eccentrically as possible, with maximal violation of the tenets of sheepdom, just to make you wet the bed.

Then you can say, “Man that guy who reloads for all his pistols and shoots twice as good as I do was a damn fool, thinking he could learn to run a progressive press.”

Thanks again, generous people who helped me out. You made things a hell of a lot easier.

As for the mystics, I’ll see you at the range. I’ll be the guy with the shiny Colt with abalone grips.

Short Glock Continues Outshooting Full-Size Guns

I shot fairly well today. Due to my ineptitude with the reloading press, I was not able to produce .45 ammunition, so I shot the 9mm, the .40, and the .357.

I started out with the .357, shooting double-action. In other words, I did not cock the pistol when I fired. I always get double-action and single-action confused. This is a whole bunch of shots at 7 yards. Not sure how many. I had problems because the wind was crazy today. The target kept turning sideways in the holder, and over and over, I had to wait while it was moving around. Really irritating.

I shoot the revolver so little, I actually do better with automatics. You would think the 6″ barrel would give me nicer groups than the dinky auto barrels. No such luck. But I enjoy shooting it. I don’t like the little Hogue grip. I ought to shop for a bigger one. I think the grip is intended for carry, which is a little silly on a revolver the size of a framing hammer.

Here’s the second bunch of shots. The target was still spinning and rocking. Trail Glades won’t let pistol shooters use multiple bullseyes, so I decided to make up by own by shooting at the little crosses on the target. I put 15 rounds into them, cocking the gun before firing. Oddly, I shot better when I didn’t cock the pistol. I went clockwise, starting at top left. You can see I got better on the way.

I like this target because it’s good except for a few flyers. I think it shows I was making changes that helped.

I got out the Glock 26 and steel-cased Wolf ammunition and put 50 rounds into this target at 7 yards. I cannot believe this gun. God help anybody who tries to harm me while I’m carrying it. It shoots beautifully.

You can see how much the target twisted. Look through the hole, at the guy several stations to my right. You shouldn’t be able to see him.

I decided to try the .40, and here are the results. The 9mm shoots better for me, and it’s much shorter. Go figure. My shooting improved as I worked on the lesson I learned last week, i.e., squeeze with the weak fingers first. And I’m working on getting a more symmetrical sight picture. I assume target sights leave less room for the front sight to wobble around in a big empty notch, but I don’t actually know. I made up my own second bullseye again, at top left.

By that time I was pooped, so I left.

There were some old guys with FBI hats shooting today. They all shot well, but one was just scary. I realized that I was looking at one of the great blessings of life in America. This guy was at least 75, and he was probably one of the deadliest individuals in the county. In many countries, or in states with no carry privileges, he’d be weak and helpless. An inviting target. Think of the difference the second amendment can make in a life.

Here’s a T-bird I parked near the other day. Not relevant, but impressive.

I feel like my shooting is still improving, but it’s hard to tell, with this incredible wind that never seems to go away.

Tell me This is Not Happening

According to Stand for Israel, PM Olmert has decided to give back the beautiful Golan Heights. To a terrorist nation Israel just bombed. In exchange for…wait for it…peace.

What a brilliant strategy! How come no one thought of this before?

If Israel keeps this nonsense up, eventually they’ll have so little land, they’ll have to put a giant ladder on their last remaining square foot, for everyone to climb and hang onto.

Sooner or later, we are going to have to admit that imperialism is often a very good thing. The civilized nations of the world are going to have to unite and take over states like Syria and Iran and put everyone on an allowance.

I’ll say it again. Liberals believe battered wives aren’t fit to be trusted with handguns, but they think savages are fit to handle huge armies and nuclear weapons. Someone explain the logic.

I Wish Lieutenant Dan Were Here

It looks like I was spazzing over nothing, RE crimping .45 cases. As readers have pointed out, these cases aren’t supposed to have much of a crimp. I just assumed they needed one, because they looked unfinished. But I took out a sample of the closest thing I have to .45 ammunition–.40 S&W–and I saw that the case edges were perpendicular to the barrel axis.

On the up side, I learned how to adjust the die so it crimps. The instructions are completely wrong. I’m sure there is some way to construe them so they work, but I haven’t found it yet. It works like this. There is a sliding deal inside the die which seats the bullet. The body of the die does the crimping. So to crimp a case, you lower the die body until you get a crimp, and then you adjust the sliding thing down until you get the overall length you want.

I ran off a couple of crimped shells without primers or powder, just to see if I could do it. They looked okay, except that I think I may have belled the cases a little too much. If you don’t open them up a certain amount, the bullets may fall over in the cases as they are pushed up to the seating die. Instead of perfectly straight sides topped by a crimp, I got a very slight bulge around the case mouth, just below the crimp. Doesn’t matter, since I have to adjust the die all over again.

Not sure how accurate the OAL has to be. I got it as close as I could, using Vernier calipers. May be off by a thousandth or two.

I was going to try to run off 50 shells today, but I’ll never make it to the range if I do. I guess I’ll take Glocks, since I have ammunition for those.

A reader is taking me to task for being an “avowed fan” of Tucker Max. I get the weirdest comments. Anyone who read what I wrote about Tucker can see that I’m not comfortable endorsing his work. But the guy was very decent to me, when people whose values are more like mine were doing nothing to help me or even working against me. He didn’t know me from Adam, but he took the time to send me a priceless document full of PR tips. And Maddox was helpful, too. And unlike some conservatives I could name, who count every bean and extract payment for everything they do, they didn’t want a single thing in return. Neither of them has ever asked me for anything. So I’m not going to spit in their faces in order to look holy. When my spam book came out, the only conservatives I knew who mentioned it were Lucianne Goldberg and a generous contingent of small-time bloggers. And the same thing is going to happen when the cookbook comes out. At best.

Chastity is part of Christianity, but so is helping other people without demanding anything in return. So is gratitude. Think about that before comment rage compels you to tell me who I should be nice to.

Press Beginning to Function

Okay, here is what I got.

Press station 1: decapping and sizing.

Station 2: priming

Station 3: powder

Station 4: expanding

Station 5: seating

I used a combination of Lee and Hornady materials to get there. I have everything adjusted except for the powder charge and the crimp.

Here is my question. Right now, I’m producing .45 ACP shells with kind of a big lip on them. Should I adjust the seater thing so it crimps them in and makes them pretty?

I’m trying to figure out how to do that, but the tiny pamphlet that came with the die is not all that great.

It turns out my dies are titanium nitride, and the manual says no lube. We’ll see if that works.

Help Arrives

I guess I’m an idiot. This is not news. I thought none of the books I owned were of any use in setting up an ammunition press, but it turns out the handgun chapter in The ABCs of Handloading (or is it Reloading?) is pretty good. So I’m going to give it a shot.

I don’t have any lube for the cases. Damn it. Do I really have to buy lube? Can’t I just use pork fat? I guarantee you, it will cost me a mail-order fee or two gallons of gas to find lube around here.

Fixed my Bumper…

Agent Bedhead is in love with Quentin Tarantino. I find him entertaining but annoying. But today she managed to find a photo that may force me to rethink my views.

It suggests a buddy flick we could both really enjoy.

New Comment!

Leah Friedman has returned to my comments! She just posted this:

Thank you so much your prayers have helped me more than you will ever know.
Therapy sucks and at times is brutal.
But each day I get a wee bit stronger.
Steve I am sending you a virtual hug.
In time I will reply to everyone, just this post is taking me a very long time.
B’Ahavah
Leah

It was nothing, Leah. God is doing all the work. I just take the credit.

I’m so glad you’re writing and talking again.