My Paranoid Nature

AD wrote a post recently about having to break into a home in order to get to the person who had requested his assistance. He offered several ways to help emergency services folks find and get to you. He made very good points, and I agree with all of his suggestions, save one.

One of his ideas was to leave a spare key somewhere outside, and have the 911 database updated to include this information. I see potential problems with this. Perhaps my risk to reward assessment would be different if I were sixty years older and much more frail. However, I see the chances of either abuse of this information by government officials or compromise of the database as much more likely than me fucking myself up so badly that I can’t make it to the door after summoning EMS.

Just my two cents. Your mileage may vary.

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Recoil Therapy

I haven’t fed Annie since her first successful range trip, well over a year ago. For the newcomers, Annie is my Savage 111 Long Range Hunter rifle chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum, topped with a Weaver T-series 36X benchrest scope.

During the aforementioned range trip, I got the scope close at 200 yards. My range has three positions that go out to 300 yards, but all of those were all taken by the time I had finished at 200. It had been a fun (and expensive) day already, so instead of waiting for a position to open up, I went home. I intended to return shortly thereafter, but life happened.

Things aren’t much less hectic now than they have been for the last eighteen months. But, for my emotional health, and because I want to, I plan to make range time a higher priority than it has been.

As often as not, recent outings of the shooting variety have been spurred by Shooting Buddy. This is not a bad thing. I am lazy, even when it comes to things that I enjoy. I had an ex tell me once that she was surprised that I wasn’t too lazy to have sex. But I digress.

Like I was saying, SB would get an itchy trigger finger, or have a new toy/configuration he wanted to try out, and off we would go. I would seldom put more than 50 rounds downrange, if I shot at all. I always seemed to have something else on my mind – house, work, insomnia, something. Instead of taking advantage of the distraction, I allowed these potential opportunities for relaxation to be wasted. Things must change.

At least once per month, every month, I hope to be hitting the range and shooting more than 100 rounds. Unless it is Annie. In which case, twenty rounds will cause sufficient trauma to my wallet.

My goals are as follows:

  • Increase my overall handgun proficiency, including both draw and accuracy.
  • Concentrate on revolver reloads, both with speed loaders and speed strips.
  • Develop my rifle skills.

    I have done very little rifle shooting over the years. I was always decent, scoring Marksman (defined as getting a minimum of 35/40 hits on a target with reduced silhouetes that simulated 100, 200, and 300 meters) both times that I qualified while on active duty. I have owned several different rifles, but never shot any of them enough to sharpen my skills beyond what I guess is natural ability. I want to change that.

    My range holds High Power Rifle competitions from time to time, and I had hoped to shoot Annie in one, attempting to come in anywhere but dead last.  However, it would appear that when I heard “high power rifle”, I imagined something very different than what the NRA did when they came up with the name. 

    They should call it a Service Rifle Competition, or some such shit.  .223/5.56?  High power?  Give me a fucking break.  High power compared to a .22 magnum, maybe.  My primary carry revolver with a 2.58″ barrel generates more muzzle energy, for fuck’s sake.  Oh, well.  I don’t like people anyway.  I guess I’ll create a course of fire and execute it myself.

    The only practice rifle I have is my somewhat improved Ruger 10/22. It is much lighter, and has neither recoil nor a bolt to cycle, but I think that shooting it at 50 yards would give me valuable skills. Stance, target acquisition, and breathing control should be very similar. The view through the 4X scope at 50 yards should be close to 36X at 300 yards.  And I can fire either 64 rounds of .22LR or a single round of .338 for the same money.

    Despite the extended shortage of 22 ammo, I have a fair amount squirreled away, and with the Volquartsen upgrade, it will feed anything. I just have to rescue it from the ex-roomie’s place, where my gun safe still resides.

    I finally got my telescope, and I plan to put it to use on Saturday, zeroing Annie at 300. But you know what they say:

    Men plan, and God laughs.

    Yes, I know that is a Yiddish proverb, and being the racist piece of shit that I am, I’m supposed to hate the Jooz and all things Jewish. But since when have I ever done anything I was supposed to do?

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    Nobody Wants My Money

    I keep trying to give people my hard-earned money, but nobody will take it. At least, nobody seems willing to do work that I need done in exchange for my money.

    I have contacted four different tree companies. One didn’t have the equipment necessary to remove trees so close to buildings and power lines.   Another pulled a no-show. The other two, one of which was one of the sponsored results from a google search, have ignored my requests for estimates.

    I need the trees gone so I can put in a storage shed without having to worry about it getting damaged.  I also need them gone if I am going to plant anything in the way of a garden this year, which already seems very unlikely.

    The surveyor that I called to come out and mark the corners of my lot promised to do so within a week. Four weeks ago. I haven’t seen or heard from him since.

    I need the survey so I will know for sure that all the trees I want removed actually originate on my property.  And so I will know where to put the storage shed and the fence.

    I reckon I’m just out of luck.

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    It’s a Magazine

    … not a fucking clip!

    I’m reading Desperate Times by Nicholas Antinozzi.  It was free on amazon as of yesterday.  It’s not a bad “end of the world” story, although it is unrealistic in some (many) places.

    But M16 rifles and modern autoloading pistols feed from magazines, not clips.

    Dipshit!

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    Range Trip AAR

    Saturday morning, Shooting Buddy and I met up for some much needed and long overdue recoil therapy. Short version: I suck.

    We spent the first half of the day on the rifle range, zeroing SB’s new Mossberg 30-06. That went mostly well, except for some minor rest issues. And one glaring flaw in the design of the rifle itself. The rear sling mounting point is was molded into the stock. Yeah, it pulled out, and we aren’t sure when it happened. Plus we got our exercise for the day, walking to and from the target. You know, because dickhead screwed up my telescope delivery.

    Then we moved on to the pistol range. SB played with his europellet Glock, and I broke out the HiPoint 45 first. Out of three magazines, I had five FTF due to light primer strikes. These malfunctions also exposed an extreme tendency to flinch.

    I switched over to my Glock 21 and proceeded to knock down three of the five steel plates at the back of the range – roughly twenty yards, and about 8″ plate size. It only took two full 13-round mags.

    Out of frustration, I pulled the KelTec out of my back pocket and knocked down the last two plates with two shots. Later in the day, I finished that one magazine, but those two shots told me everything I needed to know about that gun.

    A few 5-round (loaded light to practice draw and reload) magazines later with the 21, I had mostly overcome my flinch and was knocking down the plates with near-boring regularity.

    By the time we left, I had learned quite a bit:

    I need to work on my technique when it comes to how to position my support hand when shooting with my weak hand.

    Slide bite really fucking hurts, and can easily draw enough blood to prematurely end one’s day of shooting.

    I am very happy with my decision to start carrying a basic first aid kit in my car.

    The little Keltec is pretty awesome, despite its diminutive caliber. Apparently, the only way to make it malfunction is to block the slide while it is attempting to cycle. See above.

    It seems that my HiPoint is only going to be reliable if it and its magazines are stored empty and with no springs under tension. Last year when I last took it out, it performed well. Since then, it was stored fully loaded, but untouched. The only thing I can figure is that the firing pin spring weakened while compressed. This may be acceptable expected after a decade or two under wildly varying environmental conditions, but not in six months of sitting on the night stand.

    I flinch badly after just a few months of no range time. I really need to work on eliminating significant delays between practice sessions.

    Although I am not willing to admit to any deficiency regarding my Serpa holsters, I have developed quite a fondness for the Safariland 6377. It provides a quick, clean draw, and the release is smooth and natural.

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    Sucker

    Monday night when I got to work, I noticed that my second shift coworker seemed a little distracted and upset. He confided in me that his ex-wife had just cleaned out his bank account, and he had no funds for anything, including gas for commuting. He wasn’t even sure if he had enough gas to get home. (His commute is sixty-seven miles each way.)

    He is an idiot. I mean, who doesn’t open a new bank account immediately after splitting up? And who gets fucked with both child support and alimony, especially with no expiration date on the alimony, other than when the bitch remarries?

    He has some significant health issues, which I will generously blame for his lack of emergency cash or credit card. And for not following the “half a tank of gas equals empty” rule.

    Even so, he is a decent guy. He shows up when he is supposed to, and has a conscience when it comes to his job. He occasionally misses work due to his health, but he doesn’t abuse the system like many do.

    Even a cold-hearted bastard like me who has been taken for too many rides in the past by similarly sad tales of woe, felt a pang of something resembling compassion. I asked him how much he needed to make it until payday (Thursday). He grimaced. “Ten dollars?”

    “Ten dollars will barely get you home.”

    “I was going to take a personal day tomorrow and pawn something. Do you need an iPad?”

    To make a long story short, I pushed $100 on him. After he gave up convincing me that I did indeed need an iPad, I thought he was going to cry, hug me, or both. “I’ll pay you back. I promise. I might not have all of it this week, but I’ll get it to you no later than next week.”

    “Don’t worry about it. $20 a week is quickly enough.” Poor guy couldn’t stop thanking me. I almost regretted giving him the money. OK, not really.

    True to his word, he gave me a twenty as soon as I got to work last night.

    I’ve been burned in the past, both loaning money to people I thought I could trust only to find out the hard way just how wrong I was, and buying bullshit sob stories. This was different. I hope to be repaid, and I truly believe that I will be. But even if I never see the remaining eighty dollars, that’s OK.

    But for the grace of God, it could be me. Lord knows, I’ve made more than my share of poor fiscal decisions.  I’m just glad I could help. I never carry much cash. That day, I did.

    EDIT on 4/7: Received another $40. Looks like he’s going to pay me back, and ahead of schedule.

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    Liars

    I had a date scheduled with Annie for Saturday. A crooked yankee chinaman has forced me to cancel. I’ll explain.

    Shooting Buddy and I will be meeting up on Saturday morning for a long overdue range day. My Savage 111 .338 Lapua magnum, also known as Annie, was scheduled to make an appearance for 300 yard zero.

    I remembered this past weekend that I still don’t have a sufficiently powerful device to enable me to accurately identify POI at 300 yards. My 36X Weaver and my cheap 15-40X spotting scope are equally worthless in locating holes in paper beyond about 150 yards. Since no local retailer carries astronomy telescopes (the least expensive alternative I could think of to a higher magnification spotting scope), and amazon purposely delays shipment unless you pay for expedited service, I resorted to flea-bay and searched for a nearby seller.

    I located an acceptable product at a tolerable price from a guy who claimed to be in New York (spit!). Estimated delivery to me was on or before Friday, April 4th. In the early morning hours Monday, I placed the buy-it-now bid and paid.

    A couple hours ago, I got a notice from flea-bay saying that it had shipped. I clicked through to the website for the Brown Truck of Happiness, and confirmed that it had indeed shipped.

    From fucking Ontario, Kalifornistan. Scheduled delivery date, Monday, April 7, 2014.

    So, Annie stays home on Saturday. I’m not going to be the asshole who calls for a cold range after every shot so I can check my target, and I damn sure won’t be popping off ten or fifteen rounds between target checks. Not at five bucks per boom.

    Like I said. Fucking crooked (lied about the item location in the listing) yankee (claims NY as home) chinaman (surname per PayPal is of Chinese origin).

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