big cliché

Constantine: Much, much better than I initially anticiapted. Cool effects, passable story and no "Whoa" at all from Keanu. Definitely a movie night rental.

21 Grams: De-pressing. Very well done, but dang that was a downer. I must admit I have a decided penchant for the circular story telling, so this one had me before I even started watching. Another movie night rental, if you're up for it.

The Aviator: BORING. Well acted and it was nice to see Leo play something other than a twelve-year-old. Sadly, by the time he had locked himself in the screening room, we'd had our fill. Let me say that again for you: BORING.

Video - 50 caliber bullets penetrating various items - Video Hosting From FileCabi.net

How can you not love this? Many thanks to Dusty for the link.

CNN.com - Quiz: Are you the annoying co-worker? - Jul 29, 2005: "You wear strong perfume or cologne."

Take the time, take the quiz and make the changes. Now. You know who you are.

FOXNews.com - Politics - Senate Votes to Shield Gun Manufacturers From Lawsuits

Oh Happy Day!

Anyone who opposes this kind of common sense, must, by extension, think it is logical to sue FORD for making a truck that was used in a drunk driving accident. There can be no other conclusion.

Unless your Teddy Kennedy. In which case, you are a certifiable nutter who has killed more people with his car than every gun owner I personally know combined.

Put another Helpdesk Food Day down in the history books.

Tonight was Paul's hand-rolled tamales, Aimee's perfect pintos, Wayne's somewhat Spanish rice, Neil's quiller queso and the hands down best red vevet cake I have ever sampled. Paul also made guacamole, while Rob brought the drinks, plates and plastic ware. Jason made sure we had the staple of all south o' the border fare: chips and salsa!

Seriously, that cake was so good I might have to smack someone and call them Susan.

I definitely didn't hate the cake. Definitely not. No. No hating the cake.

Centerfire Pistols

I find it curious that the company which bears the name of the designer offers the Hi-Power, but is oddly lacking in the M1911 department. Curious indeed.

Hello, Group. It's true. I finally decided it was so while driving around with Rob H. this weekend on the way to and from the range. While Rob is a real people person and actually networks with them, I (and I know how terrible this must sound) view most people as just one more obstacle between me and what I am trying to accomplish.

I didn't start out this way, but the never ending cycle of stoopids has pushed me into this corner--and they never, ever cease to remind me that mostly, my jaded little view of the world is not too far off. Saturday morning started out with a trip to wm to buy ammo. Simple enough, but I have a philosophy when having to shop at the satan center during daylight hours: get in fast, get out faster and hope no one gets hurt in the process. I never realized it, but I even walk faster to get the whole thing over as quickly as possible. And I mean faster. Rob H. is a good 2" taller than I, and he still had trouble keeping up with my pace despite his longer stride. Once we rectified that situation, we got to the sporting good counter only to find no one. As usual. There was one guy, but he wasn't really the sporting goods guy, as evidenced by his lack of a brown vest. I'm not sure why, but wm makes the dept. 9 guys-n-gals wear brown vests instead of the regular blue. Maybe they feel it's more 'outdoorsy'. Anyway, old boy's got a bit of a limp or maybe even a birth defect, which is no big deal. I'm certainly not going to hate on old boy for that. But when he wants to actually check my age on my DL after I verbally give it to him, that's when I start seeing the red. I know old boy is only doing 'his job' but he is complicating what should be a quick, easy, painless transaction. This is never good. The end result is that I'm feeling the hate for a guy who is A) already struggling with mobility and B) just doing 'his job'. Now who's a giant turd? The moral of the story is that if you want to verify my age on the DL, just ask to see the DL. Mkay?

We get back out to the parking lot, and Rob mentions a sale in full swing at Outdoor America. Frequent readers will know that they are officially on the blacklist after the "Ross debacle" and Old Man Baker's personal dis. When I remind Rob of this, he retorts "Man, you should publish a list so we can keep up with who you're hatin". And that's when I realized it would indeed be easier to keep a list of those I'm still dealing with as opposed than those I am not. Perhaps I will even put one up called "100 things...I hate".

Back in the day, growing up in a small town and all, I used to afford people a modicum of trust and respect upon meeting them, based on the premise that if they are a friend of XXXX then they must surely be worthy of my trust/respect as well. California promptly corrected that. I came to the unfortunate conclusion that most people don't need a reason to screw you over, just an opportunity. Since that time, rather than automatically getting the respect/trust, you are on probation until you have demonstrated that you are not going to do me. If, during that time, you indeed put one over on Old Wayne, you are done. If you're lucky, you get a second chance--but only if you are bringing something really special to the table. Sadly, most folks aren't.

I started thinking about this situation, and it occurred to me that a large portion of this could be that I just don't 'play well with others' as they used to say, and this led to the idea for my first café press T-shirt (design pending). It might be best if I, and others like me--I know I'm not the only one, should come with a plain, up-front description of the situation. Hence, the "LACKS SOCIAL SKILLS" T-shirt. Maybe Jefe and I could offer a two-pack with the "POOR IMPULSE CONTROL" in red, and the "LACKS SOCIAL SKILLS" in black. A quick google search finds nothing with that slogan already attached, so I just might bust it off this weekend.

Okay, just so you know, I'm not that much of a hater. In reality, I use the word "hate" or some form of it where I would probably be served better by "dislike" or "strongly disagree with". I do try to mix it up by using with other classics like: loathe, despise, detest and very strongly appalled by... but alas, I fear I do use "hate" too much, giving the impression that I really do hate things. As Rollins used to say, don't waste hate on individual people. If you're going to hate, pick something worth hating like stupidity or racism or apathy (paraphrasing). Unless we're talking about zippin' up the boys, in which case, I genuinely hate that, and I suspect you do too.

Last night at the grocery, Aimee got the jones for some fruity pebbles. But she only wanted one or two of those little boxes we all got when we were chilluns. Of course, since it was the satan center, aka wm, there were none in sight. So I got the brilliant idea that if we got the full size box, I would make the rest of them into krispy treats. Sounds good right? Fruity pebble krispy treats. Yes, that sounds logical. They're both crisp rice cereals, right?

I assure you, in actual practice they are waaaaaay, and I mean way too sweet. So much so that it is going to take us twice as long to finish the pan. I had forgotten how much sugar they add to those things, which is exponentially more intense after you give them a melted-sugar bath.

Trust me on this one kids, unless you want a sugar headache, don't try this at home.

Partially. Hydrogenated. Vegetable. Oil.

This stuff has got to go. It is probably one of the worst things you can stuff in your pie hole and yet it is everywhere.

The stuff is basically liquid vegetable oil that is made into a solid through the process of hydrogenation. This, in turn, creates trans-fats. If I gots my story straight, it was only recently that food companies were required to disclose this stuff as FAT because it is trans-fat. Not being a molecular biologist or anything even remotely close, I don't know what the difference is, but I suspect it was intellectual hair-splittin' on the part of nabisco and little debbie so they wouldn't have to tell you exactly what was in the oreo's filling and the nutty bar's smoooth chocolatey goodness.

I'm not joking, this stuff is in practically everything you can buy at the store. Even mother-fruitin' bisquick pancake mix. When I was a kid, pancakes were (and still are, by the way) flour, buttermilk, eggs, real vegetable oil and a wee pinch of baking powder. You can add vanilla and a little sugar, that but that was all they needed. It is obvious bisquick thinks your pancakes need more fat. For what reason I can't be sure, but I suspect it is so your kids will want the rich, smooth, tasty goodness of the bisquick griddlecakes instead of YOUR lame old pancakes. I know that fat adds a lot to the plate when it comes to flavor and mouth feel, but this is downright idiocy. Think about it: you will normally brush a small amount of olive oil on something you grill (fish, chicken, etc.) to make it taste better, and keeping it from sticking to the grill is a nice bonus. If you want a good steak you pick the one with good marbling, which is what? Fat in the grain of the muscle tissue. What do you do with mushrooms to make them extra-tasty? Fry them in butter and garlic, right? I know the drill, but they are pumping this artificially created crap into the most outlandish of places. You would think a spice rub would be safe from this lunacy, but NO. Check out the ingredients in this. What possible reason could these dolts have for sticking this stuff in a spice rub? It should be salt, pepper, and spices. Period. I could honestly freakin' scream.

Aimee and I have decided that this stuff is actually a by-product of the petroleum refinery industry and the federal government has mandated that food manufacturers must pump it into their products to get rid of it before it takes up so much room that we can't do anything with it. I think the planet will just belch it right back out of the landfills, so our bodies are used as processing stations to break it down into a form that the planet won't immediately vomit back in our faces.

Seriously folks, read the label the next time you pick up a loaf of bread, your favorite snack, frozen french fries, a bag of cookies, a box of bisquick or just about any other processed food stuff. Oh yeah, if any product you see is labeled "NO trans fats" and you see PHVO on the list of ingredients, they are lying to your face. It is a result of the process. If you have PHVO, you have trans fats. Here's a nice link from the cons.

I'm happy to report I just returned from the range and all is well with the The New 9. The magazines, however, were a different story. Oh there's nothing wrong with them a good cleanin' won't fix but they were giving me fits initially. Remember when I mentioned those two hours cleaning the pistol? Part of that time was spent cleaning the extra-thick long-term storage goop off the mags, or more accurately off the outside of the mags. Unbeknownst to me, the inside was just as filthy with the stuff. And you know what? It makes a horrible lubricant. I was able to get most of it out by taking the mag apart and running a few paper towels through the mag tube, but they still aren't "degunked" yet, so there were more than a few times that the follower failed to properly and fully engage the slide stop on the pistol. Of course all that really means is that the slide didn't lock open after the last round. The pistol itself functioned flawlessly, and is most deliciously accurate, if just a bit to the right. Later today, I'll get a pic of the first target fired on. I ran it down to about 10 yards or so and gave it a good beating. After getting the mags mostly sorted, I ran a target all the way down range and was able to keep almost all of the shots in the black of the target--which is about a 9" circle. Not bad for a first outing. Although I'm inclined to think most pistol work would be done within 15 yards at the outside, and probably much closer than that in the really real world.

Anyway, I now know and knowing is half the battle, right? When I clean the pistol tonight, I'll also take the time to go through each of the mags, inside and out, to make sure all of that goop is out of there. For now, I think it's nap time. I got up way to early this morning.

I present to you: The New 9.

The astute observers among you are probably thinking "HEY! That's not a CZ!" and you would be correct. That is a Sig Sauer P226 9mm. And it is sweet to the Nth power. Not that the CZ isn't. I assure you, as will Kelly, the CZ is indeed a fine weapon capable of more accuracy than most of us can wring out of it. But the Sig is sweet in that I've wanted one of those since... kind of way. I have been digging on that pistol since waaaay back in the day when one of Jefe's shadie...er...more colorful friends (ask him about Eric and his "special security system" van someday) showed up at the House on 36th packin' a Sig 230. Granted, it's not the same weapon, but the fit, finish and obvious quality of build were apparent and stuck with me to this day. (Remember, we were living on 36th back in '94). Anyway, I've always wanted one, but Sig's aren't exactly what you'd call easy on the bank account. Perhaps that would be different if Sig had gotten the M9 contract instead of Beretta, but that's another story altogether. Fast forward to '05.

While joking around one night, I get the idea to buy a new pistol with money raised entirely through soliciting donations and auctions. To my surprise, it goes so well, I can now afford a Sig. Albeit a used one. You see, Sig has one of those factory-certified, pre-owned pistol programs, kind of like what Acura does with their cars. They take them back in at the factory, usually from L.E. contracts that are upgrading or just at the end of the contract, give them a thorough run-through and testing, replace any worn or damaged parts and then sell them to the public at a reduced premium. They come with a 1 year warranty, a nifty nylon hard case, manual, obligatory pistol lock and 1 full-cap mag.

I know, the original intent was to get the CZ-75 brand new, but when I realized, after checking out current auctions on gunbroker, that I could actually afford the pistol I'd been salivating over for 11 years, I figured "what the heck" I'll check them out and see what I think. Two weekends ago, I got up and drove to the ci-tay to check them out. Actually, I wanted to look at a P226 and an HK USP. The USP has almost attained cult status since being adopted as the official SOCOM sidearm (as the Mark 23) and they're just pain sweet-lookin. Not to mention the polymer frame shaves off valuable ounces when it comes to packability. Fortunately, H&H had one example of each in their consignment case so I was able to get my grubby mits on both at the same time. It was immediately apparent to me that I did NOT like the grip on the HK. It feels a bit boxy, kind of like my old Glock (which is why we called it the "BLOCK") and the molded-in checkering on the front strap is very aggressive and very uncomfortable. Even just taking a solid firing grip it was evident that it would not do under recoil. Lastly, the trigger felt kind of mushy--or rather very plasticky. I don't know if that's the correct way to describe it, but it didn't feel "right". After playing around with the Sig for just a few minutes, I found the grip to be very pleasing. Not too fat--not too slender and it aligned my finger with the trigger very naturally. It also came up exactly to point-of-aim when I raised it with my eyes closed. It was also very plain, to me, that the trigger was worlds better than the HK. Probably even better than my 92, but 92's aren't noted for their smooooooth triggers. I'm just used to it. I decided to go ahead and rent one of H&H's Sigs and put 50 rounds through it right then. As he handed me the pistol and my target, the owner said "there's a CCW class starting in about 15 minutes, so I can't give you much time" to which I replied "I won't need much time". I felt rather Bond-like for about 7 seconds--that is until the cheese factor had set in. For better or worse, I was right. I have gotten to the point where I can rip through 50 rounds in about 8 minutes, and that includes loading the mags. But that's not just firing them down range all quick-snap either. No sir, those are carefully aimed shots--no more than 1 per second. Unless I am doing double-taps, in which case it is no more than 2 per second. When very the first round when into the bullseye at about 9 o'clock with the target about 10 yards down range, I smiled just a little as I realized my decision was made for me.

I came home, looked through about a hundred auctions before deciding on a nice pre-owned one. I then waited a day before using the 'buy it now' just to make sure it wasn't the range time (all 10 minutes of it) making me giddy.

In all fairness to the CZ, it fit my hand perhaps a tiny bit better, but that was after Kelly added the Hogue grips to his and indeed the trigger is very smooth. However, the Sig doesn't seem to exhibit as much stacking as the CZ, and that, along with their reputation for reliability and just plain shootability, is what really sold me. Think about it: I grabbed a grubby rental gun with their budget ammo and proceeded to put the first round, and most of it's successors, right through the bullseye. That ain't bad, folks. Oh yes, I opted for one with factory night sights and purchased two extra full-cap mags so I am set for the weekend proving trip to the range. Hopefully, I'll get some pics of that for posterity. That is if my shootin' buddy finishes his college paper on-time.

Many thanks to those who gave, and if any of you feel like I misled you or was dishonest, I'll be happy to refund your cash. Just drop me a line.

I haven't forgotten about the pictures of The New 9. My mom-in-law's computer took a huge dump, so I've been messing with that. Then I spent almost 2 hours cleaning all the packing grease/rust preventative out of the nooks and crannies on the pistol. By the time I was done with that, there was no way I was dragging out the gear to spend another 2 hours shooting the photos. We'll get to it--maybe even tonight.

FGC Direct

Earlier today, I ran across this. It seems innocent enough, but check out that fine print. Apparently, the people's republic of kalifornia is too far gone for these guys!

CNN.com - Lacrosse team sparks White House flip-flop flap - Jul 19, 2005

With all that's going on in the world today, THIS is news?

Back in the day when I was working on $32,000,000 aircraft for Uncle Sugar, this was a rule we worked by every day. The concept being that no matter how many times I did a 42-day inspection on the aircraft, if I allowed my familiarity with the process to supersede the published guidelines for the inspection, and as a result failed to do it properly, then bad things could not be far behind. We were issued safety bulletin after safety bulletin about tech's who'd missed a critical detail while performing maintenance, because they had done it a thousand times before, that led to the loss of an aircraft or even worse--the loss of a pilot.

I'm talking 'bout safety for two reasons: first, I'm picking up The New 9 tomorrow and buying a new pistol is always a good reason to talk about safety. Second, a friend at work hipped me to some pictures of a friend of his who forgot, probably due to his familiarity with firearms, rule number 1. And 2. And 3. But we'll get to that in a second.

If you own a firearm, you've undertaken the massive responsibility of not only making sure that your weapon is secure from unauthorized users, but also that every time you handle the weapon, you are doing so safely--for your own safety and well being as well as that of those around you. It only takes one mishap or lapse in 'situational awareness' to end it all, and bullets don't care if you were safe 1.2 million times previous to that one tiny mistake. In case you've forgotten your rules, take a few to brush up here.

Everyone back? Good deal. Now as I was told by our buddy Dave, his friend was going to clean his pistol. (How many times have we heard about people being shot while cleaning an unloaded weapon?) Obviously, he would have to clear the chamber (this was a home defense pistol, which explains why it was loaded) and that's when it discharged into the heel of his left hand. How could this happen? It turns out Dave's buddy is one of those guys (ahem...KELLY) who has gotten into the habit of grasping the MUZZLE end of the slide with his left hand to force it rearward while holding the grip with his right. I have always cringed upon seeing folks to this at the range and it is still commonplace despite the obvious safety issues. (Having said that, there is often no other way to lock the slide open on certain pistols so I'm not saying it shouldn't be done. It shouldn't be done, IMO, with a loaded pistol). My issues with this practice are that this is usually done with the pistol at chest level, pointed directly to the left for right-handed shooters and vice-versa for southpaws. As a result of this position, the bore of the pistol is rarely pointed down, nor is it in a "safe" direction at all. Remember: if you live in an apartment or multi-story dwelling, there may be folks directly above, below, to the left or to the right of you with nothing more than two sheets of drywall and some fiberglass insulation between you. I promise you: every modern centerfire pistol cartridge will penetrate two sheets of drywall. DON'T assume any wall will stop a projectile.

Obviously, just racking the slide this way will not cause a properly functioning, modern pistol to fire. Grasping the trigger when you do this, will most always cause the pistol to fire. This is generally going to occur as a reflex action because the fingers tend to work together when they are gripping something. It takes a great deal of practice to cause one finger to work independently of the others, and this is especially true of the trigger finger. (Just ask any target shooter). So even if you are not trying to squeeze the trigger, it probably will tighten when the left hand pushes the slide rearward to resist the pistol's movement in the right hand. A perfect example of this was our buddy, the DEA guy, who shot himself in the foot during the lecture. His finger was on the trigger when he went to holster his weapon and his hand instinctively increased grip pressure as he encountered the resistance of his holster. (Contrary to hollywood hijinks, your weapon will probably not fall into the holster--it takes some doing). So basically, this guy forgot to keep the weapon pointed in a safe direction. He pointed it at something that I'm sure he wasn't intent on destroying. And then, he put his finger on the trigger BEFORE he was ready to fire the weapon. And that, friends, is how unintentional shootings happen. Don't think it won't ever happen to you because that is usually when it will. I'm quite sure Dave's friend didn't wake up thinking "I'll shoot myself today", and I'm sure you wouldn't be either if this had happened to you.

Just so you know, I am NOT making fun of old boy and I wish him a speedy and complete recovery. But I'm serious as cancer when I say that safety has got to be the number one thing on your mind when handling firearms, and even though I don't know Dave's friend, I'll bet he would echo the statement. Oh yeah--some of these pic's are a bit graphic. You are looking at a gunshot wound after all. On to the pictures.

FOXNews.com - Views - ifeminists - The Right to Self-Defense

Read this. Then read it again. Then buy your wife a gun and teach her how to use it safely.

Just when I thought reality TV was completely worthless, I am proven wrong. And I'm not so proud as to hide the fact that last night I thoroughly enjoyed...gasp...a reality-based program! It wasn't one of those where they have to sleep with someone, or outwit someone, or get hired or fired. It was called Brat Camp, and I was cheering out loud at the screen for most of the show.

The hook on this one is that a bunch of the most spoiled, aggravating, annoying kids you've ever seen are taken out to the middle of nowhere for the tough love treatment. The best bit was that no one told the kids exactly what was going on, or how long it would last. Most of the parents told the kids they were going to some kind of hippy, feel-good, touchy-feely love camp and the majority of the parents said the kids would only be gone for a week or two. You should've seen (perhaps you did) the horrified looks on their pasty little mugs when the real, licensed therapists (one was even sporting his PhD) showed up to tell them it would be at least 40 days before any of them were going home, and could be as long as 90 depending on how quickly they reached their goals.

The basic idea is that a group of counselors takes these kids, all of whom need a serious wake-up call, out to the middle of some scrubby desert in the pacific northwest and break them down through hard work, group therapy, hiking and establishing a hard-core set of rules. They have to cook their own food, dig their own latrines, construct their own shelters and if they don't do it correctly, or within the prescribed time limits, they get to put it all back the way it was and do it over. And over. And over, until they get it right. I was gigglin' like a giddy little school girl on prom night. It was absolutely delicious to see the ADHD kid who was normally a ball of energy literally on the edge of collapse after 6 miles of hiking with a 33 pound pack. The compulsive liar in the group kept saying she was going to puke, or she was going to die "for real" if they didn't get to the camp soon (they were hiking 10 miles from base camp to a remote camp) yet she still had the energy to wank, gripe and spend at least 20 minutes crying like...a little girl!

Lest you get the wrong idea, this is not like those scared straight boot camps for brats you've seen. Oh no--this camp is all overflowing with love, kindness, patience, respect and understanding, which is far more than these little ingrates would get from me if I was one of their counselors. Which, by the way, is why I'll never be a counselor. Even I'm smart enough to realize (without the benefit of any of that high-dollar book learnin') that screaming at these kids all day, every day and making them march 'til they puke just won't work with the type of kids they are trying to help. Because in the end, they are really going to help these kids, but they don't see it yet. And that is why I have no qualms at all about laughing and hooting like an idiot at what these kids think is the most un-fair thing that has ever happened in their precious little lives. Because when it is all said and done, and the series is over, the kids will have accomplished something--probably for the first time in their lives. And it is that accomplishment which will make them better people and give them the skills they so obviously lack to deal with the really real world.

I could make some comparisons between real boot camp and Brat Camp, but that wouldn't really be fair or accurate. After all, they were hoodwinked into this deal, while I volunteered for my beating. Although, in all likelihood, they will be finished with their program sooner than they would've finished basic. While it certainly isn't the type of posh lifestyle they are used to, the kids were issued some sweet gear and they are still eating 3 meals a day, so again, I don't feel any pangs of regret as I laugh it up while they are eating their mornin' oats only to turn around and vomit because it's "icky". In fact, I myself start just about every day with a bowl of oatmeal. Sure, I put a little (real) maple syrup (life's too short for the fake stuff) in mine, but I never took a swing at my mom or tried to stab my brother, so I'm still allowed that luxury. Maybe when these little turds get their stuff together, they can have some maple in theirs too.

This freaking weather thing has gotten out of hand. I am not joking one bit when I say that Mike "cry wolf" Morgan actually reported on Thunderstorms in KANSAS last week. They were 400 miles from OKC, but they still led the 6p.m. newscast with, and I quote, the "risk of severe storms" in Oklahoma. Mother fudging KANSAS, people! It has been 6 years now since the big one--you'd think rational people would've learned by now that not every single storm system has to be tracked from its development to its demise. But no. Oklahoma meteorologists have to start running around like chicken freakin' little screaming that the sky is literally falling and you will probably be stricken deaf, dumb or even dead if you so much as leave your "safe place" before the omnipotent ones issue the all-clear. On the positive side, at least for me, these idiots have created their own tiny version of broadcast hell. They've been doing this panic routine for so long now, that they have created an environment where people expect Gary, Mike and Rick to be in the all knowing, all powerful weather center 'til zero-dark-thirty each and every time some hillbilly hears a thunder clap. Hope you brewed lots of coffee, jackass.
***
Cell phones. And I won't waste anymore of your time on that.
***
Office Politics. I'm sick to death of people, just because they have been treated as such for so long, demanding that when they make a fart, someone is right there to spray the Glade for them. I'm sick to death of hearing people justify something so mind-numbingly, incredibly, unbelievably stupid that it makes you physically sick with the simple phrase "It's politcal". I'm sick to death of watching stupid things happen because no one will stand up to (insert position of authority here) and say to them "You know what? We're not going to do that because it is stupid, wasteful, and it won't accopmlish anything other than minimizing the amount of time you look like an idiot for messing it up in the first place. Tough crap, Holmes, suck it up".
***
Inattentive drivers. Have I mentioned that one before? I suppose I could hold out hope that they will eventually earn themselves a Darwin, but the downside to that is they may take one of us with them!
***
Listening to a "rock" radio station and hearing a "country" radio commercial You know what I mean. Your listening to whatever rock station you listen to, and then that Braum's or Dr. Pepper commercial comes on that is a full-on country ballad sung by Reba McEntire or Toby Keith. Don't know why this one irks me so, but it just does. Speaking of radio, what's with that super annoying drum-n-bass loop they play behind every single minute of DJ conversation now? When did that become the norm?
***
This current climate of entitlement. When did people as a whole decide that someone owes them everything? Last time I checked, you had to work for things. Respect. Money. Recognition. Whatever. It doesn't matter, you have to work for it! Unless your Paris Hilton or Prince William. And since you're not, get back to work.
***
Me, when I'm in this kind of a mood.

FOXNews.com - Foxlife - Fox411 - Katie More Zombie-Like Than Ever

And it keeps getting deeper and deeper...

FOXNews.com - U.S. & World - L.A. Cops Shoot, Kill Man, Baby in Gunfight

Check this out, my tiny show ponies, LA law enforcement is having a baaaad year. Maybe we should ban cops in LA and just let the mob rule.

There is now officially one less weekend remaining in this year.

Kind of a bummer when you think about it that way, huh? Anyway, things were very slow and relaxing this weekend. About the only thing I accomplished was mowing the yard. Well, that's not entirely true, but grocery shopping doesn't really count for much, outside of keeping one from starving, right? Actually, there was one other thing that happened today: the purchase of The New 9. Yes, my spicy little sausages, the bass auction went off without a hitch, and that officially put the fund well over the top. I want to thank those who contributed to keeping a very dangerous, evil black firearm off the streets by putting it in my gun safe! Yeah, that's what I'm talking about! So, for those who actually gave up hard-earned cash-money, my hat's off to ya. And who are those fine, upstanding, and obviously highly intelligent individuals, you ask? They would be our fellow blogger, Jefe (of Hook Echoes and Seeing In The Dark fame) and several of my trusted and most respected coworkers. They are, in no particular order, Chris S, Dusty M, Paul J, and Justin H. Many thanks to you lot of you. I guess I now know who will help me move the bodies, huh? You may remember the old saying "Your friends will help you move, but your real friends will help you move bodies!" I don't recall if I mentioned it before, but I am buying the pistol using gunbroker.com which is a fine way to do bidness indeed. So far, I have bought 2 two and sold 2 using that site, and I have yet to hit a hitch. Some people freak out about sending hundreds of dollars to someone they have never met for a product they have never seen, but in reality most of us do it every day. It all boils down to doing your homework by making sure their feedback is solid and they have good pictures of what they are selling. It's as simple as that. The entire process, however, is a bit less "simple" and can take up to two weeks. If you're unfamiliar with the process, here's how it goes if you are purchasing a firearm on-line:

After you finish the auction itself, you must locate a federal firearms license (FFL) holder in your area to do the transfer. Keep in mind this person is going to charge you for accepting the weapon, doing the NICS check and transferring the weapon to you. My guy, on the south side of OKC, charges a flat 10 bucks. This is a very good rate. Most of them charge $25 and up. Lamers. You then obtain an ink-signed copy of your guy's FFL and mail it, along with the payment, to the person selling the gun. If the seller does not have an FFL, you will have to send it to his FFL holder. Then the person with the gun will check to make sure that the FFL you sent is valid before shipping the gun to your FFL holder. When it arrives, he will record the particulars in his ATF logbook and notify you that it has arrived. You will still have to fill out the brady (sic) paperwork and go through the NICS check before he can transfer the firearm to you, but here is the good part: NO local sales tax! It is the same as any other internet transaction. Unless the seller has a retail location in your state, you aren't paying any sales tax. Granted, this process can take a while, and isn't really for the "gotta have it now" peeps, but I guar-on-tee you are going to find a better price on gunbroker than you will in your local gun store--which means if you live in OKC, you won't have to patronize Old Man Baker at Outdoor America Store! See? Everybody wins and you end up with a nice shiny new weapon. By the way: if you see him, ask Jefe about the time OMB offered him a glass of "ice water" to mow an extra acre behind his store. That guy is a phallus to everyone, it seems.

So, just to make sure we are all on the same page, TN9P is offically concluded. Once I receive the weapon, I'll give it a proper run-through and put up some pics so you can all see all the good your charitable contributions can achieve. None of that wondering if your dollars are really doing the work you wanted them to. No sir, you will get to see, through the magic of the internet and digital photography, that your donated dollars are doing the job you intended! Any donations from this point on will be put into the ammunition fund. I'll take down the link here in a bit. Thanks again to those who gave, and here's hoping your Monday succeeds and does not suck eggs!

CNN.com - Man charged with stealing Wi-Fi signal - Jul 7, 2005

Now you know. 3rd degree felony just for checking your email! Thaks to Paul for sharing.

Two words, people: internet groupies.

I never even thought to consider that there would be a need for such a thing, but apparently there is. I was reading up on my daily dose of Rowland comics--it's a love/hate thing. I love OC, but hate the Wigu. Yet I can't stop reading it now that I've started. Anyway...I'm reading it and I notice that the comments now point to the LNMAC. This may seem very obvious to some of you, but the truth of the matter is that the link is blocked at work, so I didn't know where they really went. As I'm checking these comments out, it occurs to me that there is an entire sub-culture of internet America that exists, or rather posts, only to suck up to Señor Rowland. This, to me, is very strange indeed. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, yet, inexplicably, I am. I wonder if they know him personally? Then maybe it wouldn't be so strange to me--more like a friend giving him props for a job well done, or something, but these seem to be complete strangers just puckering up and kissing away--with tongue and all.

We checked out two more movies this weekend and they were both OK. Troy was better than I thought, in spite of Pitt's...uh...acting? Is that the right word? Most of the others did a great job, but that scene where they are approaching the beach at Troy and he cranks out that gorgonzola about "...immortality! Take it! It's YOURS!" I think I remember laughing out loud after mocking him, also out loud. We also watched Flight Of The Phoenix which was about as good as I expected. Which was a pretty good, indeed. There were a few off bits, but mostly good acting. Either one of them is worth a look, which is more than I can say for Doom Generation. I don't know why I just thought of that movie, but sadly, it will forever be etched in my mind as quite possibly the worst movie ever made. Even more so than Shrunken Heads.

Think about it: our founding fathers, who had been taxed without representation, forced to quarter British soldiers in their homes, had their trade routes essentially shut down (not to mention a host of other tyrannical injustices) stood right up and thumbed their collective noses at what was quite possibly the most advanced military super-power the world had ever seen. Imagine knowing full well that the king would demand your head on a plate, yet still making the decision that to die fighting is a far better thing than to continue living with no hope of freedom, liberty or any of the blessings that so many of us now take for granted. As I thought about this, I could not help but wonder: if the situation was the same today, would there still be enough fighting, independent spirit in us to stand up and take back our liberties? And that is why celebrating our independence is important, why it matters, and why it should never be taken for granted. The more I thought about the whole thing, the more I was reminded of this quote from Samuel Adams (yes, that Sam Adams) given at Philadelphia State House, August 1, 1776:

"If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen."

How's that for a reality check?

So let me ask you this: do you ever hear people running around saying "Merry 25th of December"? Or how about "Happy First of January" just seconds after midnight? No, you don't. So why is it that practically everyone either on the radio or TV has taken to calling INDEPENDENCE DAY the 4th of July? It is the day we, as a nation, declared INDEPENDENCE from the white-powder wig-wearing Brits, and yet everyone, except Ron Black (on WKY) has been running around chirping "Happy 4th of July".

Lest you forget the actual importance of the occasion, I suggest you take a few to read up on this.

Man, you ever get one of those letters that looks like bad news, but then turns out to be great news after all? Well I got one of those this week, so humor me for a minute or two while I tell you all about it. I got to work Thursday afternoon and checked my internal mailbox. Contained therein, was a rather official looking letter with the company logo in the upper left. "Great" I thought to myself. "They've found something else they forgot to take out of my paycheck and now they want it back". So I get to my desk, and the dayshift super is sitting at his (which faces mine, but don't get me started on that) and he informs me that I owe the company money, just like everyone else who got that letter. Great. I get the thing opened and start reading. Turns out they haven't been giving us our health care refunds for the last 6 months like they were supposed to be, so for once they owe us money, and there will be an extra hundred-some-odd dollars going into TN9P fund. Tasty. And then I popped in on Jefe at work and, after catching up a bit, he kicked down his donation to the fund so things are getting good. I can almost smell the cordite now. And as an added bonus, I've decided to give the first 10 persons who donate their very own cartridge casing from the inaugural firing of The New 9. Chris, Justin and Jefe have alrady secured theirs. Will you get yours?

We finished watching The Village just a bit ago, and I don't care what the naysayers say, I dug it thorougly. Good times all around, and I didn't see the "twist" coming at all. Of course I knew there was one coming, but my mind was going an entirely different direction when they finally unveiled it, so I was genuinely surpirsed. And it seems my mind wasn't really working at warp speed tonight, so that may be why I was expecting something completely different. In any event, it was good to the last scene, if I may steal a phrase. Definately worth the $4.09 we spent on it.