I THOUGHT I was a Skynyrd Fan...

     Okay, well, in truth I'm STILL a Skynyrd fan, but I was at their Rowdy Friends concert (wherein they performed for a bit then Hank Jr. took over). All was well ... except ... ah, except for their (in my opinion) very UNsouthern song, "Saturday Night Special." Okay, this is an uber-popular song and oh-so-many good Southern Lads-n-Ladies (some of 'em most likely ardent gun owners ... I know at least one of 'em is!) were just singing mindlessly along, even miming Mr. Johnny Van Zandt's anti-gun pantomines. Mostly, I suspect, this is largely a case of people getting caught up in the tune and not even hearing what the lyrics are (even, sadly, when they are singing along). Still, though The Darling Wife and I had GREAT floor seats (directly in front of the stage and just far enough back to be able to take the whole scene in), and even though I, like most of the rest of the floor audience stood and sang and danced along to their music, I stood silently in quiet protest to that particular song. Mrs. Angry Sheepdog had a great time with the music, but immediately understood what I was doing. Yeah, great Southern Rock band making a mint off of an anti-gun song.

     Oh, and the huge display screen behind the band ran all sorts of stuff whilst the song was being played. The song is about as anti-handgun as you can get. "Handguns are made for killing. They ain't no good for nothin' else. And if you like to a-drink your whiskey, you might even a-shoot yourself! .... Why don't we dump 'em, people, to the bottom of the sea, before some ol' fool come around here, wanna shoot either you or me?" Okay, now can you get any more anti-handgun than that? Hell, can you get more anti-self defense than that? Now, then, while the band is playing, and Johhny V is singing his late brother's lyrics about the evil of handguns, the screen behind him is showing videos of UZI submachine guns, AR15/M16 rifles, all sorts of longarms, a ton of PREMIUM handguns (Glock, Browning Hi-Power, et al.), and, though it was just a flash and hard to be sure, I think there was even an M-203 grenade launcher shown! Um, newsflash, bro, Glocks and BHPs are not, per se, "Saturday Night Specials," SMGs, Assault rifles, semi-auto carbines, and the like are not handguns. Let's see, what else ... oh, and despite what your lyrics claim, you cannot, in fact, still buy them for $20 (though to be fair, that was a common price for absurdly cheap handguns back in the 1970s [i.e. Clerke, Rohm, and the like]). Also, just to be really picky but utterly clear, the little ad lib you made to that line about being able to get them for $20 in any pawn shop? That was so wrong I was beginning to wonder if, in spite of your previous anti-drug song that you might have indulged or caught a contact buzz from some of your closer audience members' burning herbal cylinders.

     I was even a wee bit disturbed that when Hank Williams, Jr. sang his famous song, "A Country Boy Can Survive" he amended the line following the tale of his New York friend being "... killed by a man with switchblade knife..." by saying of the killer, he'd like to "give him a 3-inch magnum between the eyes." This implies the use of shotgun. The original lyrics involved ol' Hank wishing he could spit tobacco in the killer's eyes and "Shoot him with my old .45!" or as he once said on another stage, "I'd like to give him a few clips from my old .45!" Now, as to why the great man changed his lyrics to reflect the use of a shotgun rather than a handgun I cannot imagine. Admittedly, the shotgun would be a better choice, and I just don't see the Great, Southern Country Man not advocating the carry and ownership of handguns. In truth, were I not a bit ill at the crowd's reaction to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Saturday Night Special" I'd probably wouldn't have given Hank's extemporaneous variation much thought. In closing, I feel compelled to point out that it was a great concert, drunked idiots in the crowd notwithstanding, and the opening singer, Justin Moore did his 30 minute bit with strep throat, and Hank Jr. performed his long, fabulous time with a very bad cold kicking his arse. Mind you, though it was clear they weren't feeling good, their singing was absolutely TOP NOTCH and I'm glad I got to see 'em!

     ... In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't take music quite so seriously. Ah, but then again, nothing moves, motivates, and influences people like music, even without the target being aware of it (witness those progunners who sing along to "Saturday Night Special"). Still in all, it's just a song, right?

Don't Fix The Door, Just Tear Down The House!

Okay, let's say your house has, among all of its assorted doors, windows, cabinets, etc., one door, maybe just a cabinet door, that squeaks a bit. What do you do? Most of us think we'd just oil the offending hinge and be done with it. Ah, but then there's the socio-political way of handling it. Remove all the doors from their hinges throughout the house. Or, hey, just tear down the whole damn house.

What on Earth am I on about, you ask? Just how it amazes (sickens, saddens, etc.) me how we seem to strike all around the problems at hand, doing all kinds of damage without ever actually fixing anything, and in many instances making it worse.

Take this town where I work. We've had a couple of bank robberies in the last year. A major city nearby has had a few, and in truth there have been several over the last couple o'years within a 100 to 150 mile radius. Yeah, that's pretty much everywhere that's populated, I realize, so what? Well, the robbers, it seems, to everyone's amazement, tended to wear dark sunglasses and on occasions, hats. So, naturally, the local banks are all on high alert. Now, no one, to my knowledge has seen a weapon, and no one has been hurt. But still, 'tis only a matter of time, right? Let's face it, if you think you're gonna get any real money by robbing a bank teller, you're either desperate, stupid, or a wee bit of both. Desperate, stupid people do really foolish things so I'll agree some heightened security might be in order.

Okay, then, so what do we do? Let's see in some convenience stores, the clerk is surrounded by bulletproof glass. One would think banks would have a wee bit more money in their security budget than a corner Stop-N-Rob. So, have our local banks done this? Um ... no. I'm sure the land abounds with retired police officers and military men and general folks of good character who wouldn't mind donning a uniform and a gun and adding a bit of protection from some back corner of the building. In my youth, it seems that every bank, even the little closet sized ones had armed security on hand. Oh, but that would be introducing the great evil of a GUN into the picture ... oh, wait ... the robber might already have done that. I guess the banks just don't want to stoop to the bad guys' level? Or ... what the hell are they thinking?! Do they upgrade their security systems with crash-down cages and locking doors like some jewelry stores use? Why, no, that might be unfriendly or something. Personally I'd love to see the video of a bank robber get his money, turn, and suddenly POOF! Bulletproof glass pops up around the tellers' desks, a cage descends over the robber, all the doors lock ... muh-ha-ha-ha ... We could even give the bank managers Sting-Ball grenades to ... well ... I'll just draw a curtain of censorship around that deviously delightful notion.

Well, I imagine you've all figured out that none of the banks around here seem to have done any of the above steps. What have they done? Well, one bank put up these little signs: Remove all hats, hoods, and sunglasses before entering bank." Inside the bank, at the teller windows, are little signs, "Hats, hoods, and sunglasses are not allowed to be worn inside the bank." Now, let me get this straight, some desperate (and probably stupid) evil-doer who has already opted to commit a crime that might well net him 20 years in Club Fed, who might already be illegally packing heat, who may well have no problem whatsoever in dealing out death and destruction in a steely-eyed, sociopathic manner, is going to see these little signs and thing, "Oh, goodness, I can't rob this place! They don't allow my hat and shades in there!" Or do the brilliant minds that be think the criminal, in the midst of committing his crime, will see the sign as yon teller fills his loot bag, realize he's breaking the rules (oh, my!), and immediately remove his hat, hood, and/or shades so they cameras will get a better view?

So, rather than implement actual physical security for their employees, their clients, and our damn money, the banks decide to restrict everyone's freedom. I have to remove my hat and my shades (even though a brightly lit, window surrounded lobby is often painful to my unshod eyes) all in order to be afforded the privilege of handing this fine institution my hard-earned money so they can boost their claimed holdings and thus earn higher ratings and loan it out to make more money. I am at a loss to explain this anti-logic. This goes right in line with the anti-gun laws. "Gun Free Zone" signs don't seem to deter people bent on committing murder. Wow, who'da thunk that people about to commit mass capital felonies would not be deterred by some minor institutional rules (or at most misdemeanors)? I'd point this kinda stuff out to the gobshite morons, but when you try to educate a certain class of liberal eejit, all you seem to get is drool, dumb looks, and frustration.

Well, the next time a bank is robbed, I'll make sure to make a big deal out of the fact that said robber blatantly ignored the bank's unenforceable rule to remove his identity obscuring accoutrement's. Yeah, I don't think they'll appreciate my sense of humor.

A Little Ray Of Sunshine

Normally I reserve my more bitter comentary for this blog ... and of late, gun reviews, some game reviews, etc. But I a recent even has occured which makes even a grumpy old misanthrope like me smile a bit each day.

Thursday night our first grandchild was born. Yep. All kinda unexpectedly like, too. Well, she was due in about a week and a half, but there we were, The Missus and I, exausted after spending an entire day cleaning up a building and getting it ready to become the new dojo for our jujutsu system ("our" as in the one I am so active in, that Herself is the semi-official "dojo mamma-san", not "our" as in we run it. I'm one of the instructors, but the other instructor owns the system, thus it's "his"... although methinks he'd prefer it if everyone involved in the school used the possessive "our"). Anyway, lest I take yet another unscheduled jaunt on the digression express, let me get back on track here: Last Thursday, the wife and I spent the entire day running hither and yon getting supplies, planning-on-the-fly, cleaning, scrubbing, mopping, repairing, etc. to get the new building ready. Then I rinsed off, donned my doji (those heavy pajama-like things we wear and, oft as not bleed all over), ran and taught the night's two classes. I ended the adult class a wee bit early and the students pitched in and helped us move the mats and everything from the place we had been using to the new (and MUCH BETTER) location. By the time we got finished it was nigh on 9:30 pm and Herself and I were, to put it plainly, worn slap out. We elected to eat out since neither of us could even begin to summon the energy to cook. Having burned countless calories, we didn't feel too bad about deciding to patronize our favorite Mexican restaurant. Heck, I even had a regular (as in non-light) beer! To hell with carbs!

Anyway, there we sat, tired but quite happy and even a wee bit proud of what we had done. The head honcho was (and is at this moment) out of town for some urgent and very important business. This meant we could both exercize our not-so-latent OCD and make a lot of decisions as to what went where, etc., etc. We'd done a lot of work for one day and though a lot more needed doing, we were actually proud. Then came the phone call. Youngest daughter, BLK calls Herself's phone (thinking I was still at the dojo) and let us know that the pregnant eldest, SAK was at the hospital. Once I got the phone and started asking questions (hey, give a man credit when he knows the diff 'tween regular contractions and Braxton/Hicks contractions!), BLK put her mother on the phone (gee, thanks, kiddo, le sigh). Come to find, there was some fetal distress going on but it looked like SAK was stabilizing and would be sent home in a wee bit. She wanted to see me ASAP, though, big ol' Daddy's girl that she is. I called the waitress over and told her to bring the check as soon as she could as we might have to jump and run. She complied and about five minutes later, I get another call from BLK ... t'was time for an emergency c-section. Oh, boy ... but I did not panic. We jumped up, paid up, and made it the three miles or so up the road to the hospital. There, amid the ex's constant gloom-and-doom predictions, espousing of medical psudo-knowledge, implications to my wife (who has known me all our lives) that she (the ex) knows me better, we got to my daughter's side. I told her to ignore the gloom-and-doom, c-sections are relatively routine, "and besides, you were a HELL of a lot more trouble than this and look how good you came out!" They wheeled her away, and moments later we heard the baby cry ... I mean CRY!!! What a set o'lungs! And, sweet child though she seems to be, when she is displeased, she has no trouble getting that point across and making sure EVERYONE knows it! ... I ... um ... I wonder where she ... inherited ... that particular ... trait?

Baby girl, Riley (or NeBWuFf, as I call her ... they had NBWF on her bassinette for New Born White Female so I announced that must be her name, as per the medical staff, right? ... um ... not, as it turns out, everyone shares my sense of humor. Who knew?), is quite healthy as is her new mama. Tiny, tiny, but very, very healthy. Puts a lot of things into perspective for me, that's for sure.

So, amidst all my whining and grumpy comentaries, let it be known that this man is smiling! Well, okay, not all the time, I mean I wouldn't want the fabric of the universe to split or anything, and I'm more determined than ever to open some people's eyes so our Granddaughter has all the freedoms we enjoy today and maybe even more. But, yeah, I'm happy and proud and all the usual cool grandparent stuff. Methinks I need one of my next gunsmithing projects to be builing her a first rifle, and I already told her mother I'm ordering a size triple zero dogi. Heh-heh-heh. ;)

Gun Review: Kahr PM40

Recently I embarked on a quest to find the best OD/BUG (off-duty / back up gun) on the market. This is a quest I undertake from time to time. After all, technology changes, my particular needs might change, etc. What does not change, however, is that I need a weapon that is comfortable enough to carry 85-90% of the time (saving the smallest and lightest and less powerful for that other 10-15%). That weapon must be reliable, reasonably accurate, and preferably chamber a duty-caliber round. If all else fails, I'm willing to take a .380 but I normally reserve that for my tiniest OD/BUG, the Kel-Tec P3AT.

Well, I wound up recently purchasing a very lightly used ("Like New Condition") Kahr PM40. By very lightly used, it was, so the dealer told me, bought new by a deputy a couple o'counties over. Said lawman put, reportedly, two magazines or less through it and promptly traded it in. Hmmm ... I love a challenge! In fairness, it did not appear to have any wear whatsoever on it. When I closely examined the interior I saw a very fine amount of smudge on the inside. About right for a couple o'mags, I reckoned.

First, let me describe this little wonder. It's a double action only (DAO), polymer framed ultra-compact pistol chambered in .40 S&W. Mine came with a stainless steel slide, barrell, and trigger. The finish is matte, bordering on satin. The trigger pull is quite smooth and easily managed without being nerve-wrackingly light. It measures 5.35" long, 4" high, .94" thick, and weighs about 17 ounces with an empty magazine.


I'm actually amazed at how close it is to the size of my uber-tiny Kel-Tec P3AT .380. It looks like it's maybe 1/3 bigger, but that's just an eye-ball guess. I haven't done any actual measuring yet. Still, it's under an inch thick (just) and rides very comfortably in my waistband inside a Don Hume clip-on leather holster. The thin, formed leather adds very little bulk and the reinforced mouth let's it stay open for relatively easy reholstering. I've worn it IWB (inside waist band) behind my hip, cross-draw, appendix, and even just barely fore and aft of 3 o'clock (along the outseam of my pants) and in all those posts, it concealed under an XL t-shirt. I've also worn it quite a bit in an Uncle Mike's pocket holster. It literally just becomes a small not-at-all-gun-shaped lump in my office kahkis. It almost disappears in my relaxed fit Levis. This polymer framed Kahr is even comfortable on my ankle. That's something I could not say about it's slightly larger and much heavier brother, the K40 Covert.

The PM40 takes either flush-fitting 5-round magazines, or 6-round mags that extend about a finger's width below the grip. My PM40 came with one of each, the 6-rounder having a large polymer floorplate that fills in the gap between the bottom of the pistol's grip and the bottom of the magazine. Some folks who've held it commented that they preferred the longer magazine as they did not like having to curl a finger underneath the grip. I personally prefer as small a grip as possible. Why? Simply put (and generally), the smaller the grip, the less bulk there is to print under a shirt. So long as there's enough to get a grip on when drawing, I'm usually happy. But, to each their own. I even heard a few comments to the effect that it was "too small." Sure, I've carried even full-sized USP .45 concealed and yes, I mean in this semi-tropical environment of the SouthEastern Gulf Coast. I can carry big guns concealed. I don't like carrying big guns concealed. It's not comfortable (for me, anyway ... I'm 5'09" with a waist that varies from 34" to 36" depending 'pon the season). This little Kahr is quite comfortable and in several modes of carry. Plus, it's light enough that it doesn't drag down the pants even in pocket carry and send all sorts of red flares up.

My model came with Trijicon Express-style sites rather than the standard ones. These feature a huge white dot front site and a rear site that, rather than the typical square cut-out, is just dished down somewhat from left to right, with a vertical white stripe down the rear center. Both the dot and the stripe feature Trijicon's glow-in-the-dark feature. Express-style sites are not designed for precision target shooting. They are designed to come up on target very quickly and go back on target very quickly after recoil. They do that and do it very well. Put that huge dot on the target, bring it down to dot-the-i over the rear site, squeeze the trigger, and ... there you go. A few days prior I had been shooting a friend's PM9 (fractionally smaller if you happen to have a micrometer handy, but otherwise virtually the same pistol in 9x19mm). His had standard gun sites installed. I was able to make hits on metal Pepper Poppers (chest sized falling metal plates) out as far as 75 yards. With my PM40 and it's express sites, though, I was having great difficulty repeating that feat. For one thing, at that distance that big front dot covers most of the target. Nevertheless, this ultra compact is not designed for precision target shooting. From 25 yards and in, it is very, very fast on target and very easy to hit with. From 15 yards and in, it really begins to shine. At the more realistic self defense range of 7 yards and in, I can't think of faster set of iron sites on a pistol.

Now then, recoil is, in a word, interesting. I equate it with shooting an air-weight j-frame .38 special with hot and heavy +P loads. After about half a box of Winchester "White Box" 180 grain FMJs, the web of my firing hand around the thumb joint was aching. I don't view this as a problem, however, unless one is recoil sensitive. This is not a pistol you're going to be firing a whole lot. The next day I qualified with it on our off-duty/back-up course. This consists of a total of 25 rounds fired from 15 yards, 7 yards, and from the hip at 3 feet. The last bit concerned me simply due to the fact that this being such a light pistol in such a high pressure cartridge, the shooter must fight the recoil or risk a feeding failure. Indeed I had one during the course. I limp-wristed the second shot and the slide did not go back far enough to load the next round. It tied up with the next round nose-diving into the feedramp. All it took to resume firing was to tug the slide back and let go. Still, it was a lesson first I and then later another shooter had to learn. Do NOT limp wrist this pistol at all! The "firm but relaxed" grip we are taught to use on service pistols does not apply here. Grip that pistol like it's a highly venemous, very angry snake and hold on! The tendecy I've observed is that once the shooter realizes the recoil isn't in the light weight .44 magnum category (ouch!), the firing grip relaxes a bit and then curse words follow. So, hold on, hold on tightly, and you should be okay. In fact, the ten rounds I had to fire from three feet one-handed and from the hip did not produce any stoppages at all. I seem to actually do better holding it one-handed. Perhaps this is due to my normal manner in which, utilizing two hands, I actually let the "weak hand" do most of the gripping and mostly consentrate on using the firing hand to pull the trigger smoothly. My extensive experience with the tiny .380 P3AT taught me how to overcome these hard recoiling tiny guns that are so dependant on a very firm wrist.

Kahr pistols are quite expensive. I've seen used Kahrs go anywhere from $450 to a couple of hundred more, with most hovering around or just over the $600 mark. That's a lot of cash. Still, if your needs include a super small, very light, high quality, big-caliber pistol, I don't know where you'll find one in this class for less. I only have about 100 rounds or so, maybe a wee bit less through mine at this point, but so far [knock-on-wood] I have to say I approve.

Game Review (PC): Turning Point-Fall of Liberty

Let me start out by stating that I have this weird love for fiction involving alternative history. I am especially fond of game and fiction wherein the setting is spun off either of the World Wars. When I first saw a trailer for Turning Point: Fall of Liberty I knew I had to have that game.

Fast forward a bit and there it was on the store shelf. It was a wee bit pricey ($40) but I decided to go ahead and make the purchase. I went home and installed the program and ... promptly rode my home PC to the dreaded "Blue Screen O'Death." Um, yeah. I got the machine going again, added some nice (also expensive) software to help keep it running smoothly, and found the game simply would not run on my system [le sigh]. So though I am hardly worthy of the lofty title of "Techie," I did some research and ordered the necessary parts to upgrade my year old computer to get it to run TP:FoL. I have never, not once upgraded a computer myself. Yet, so badly did I want to play this game, so determined was I that the demi-gods of obsolescence not win, I boldly embarked on the quest to get my pc all up and fully qualified to run the game.

Long story short, I succeeded, quadrupling my RAM and installing a MUCH better graphics card. The game ran and ran oh-so-well!

The game takes place in the 1950s, explaining at the begining that Winston Churchill was killed in a pre-war accident (whereas in real life, he was injured in the same accident). Thus with England in less capable hands, the war did not go well. The U.S. remained isolationist and the world was taken over by the Nazi war machine. You play the part of a construction worker in 1950s New York. You are up walking the iron of an under construction sky-scraper when the Nazi bombers hit the Big Apple. You work your way down from the framing, wrestle down a Nazi paratrooper, take his gun (and any others along the way), fight your way to street level, and join the resistance.

Those familiar with other war-based First Person Shooters will figure out the mechanics almot instantly. The first few times you do something (like, say, use a ladder) the game has a built-in tutorial that shows you what key to hit (E in the case of the ladder). If you like games like Medal of Honor, Call of Duty, etc. you'll like the gameplay here. The weapons are very interesting and well modeled with a lot of detail. They are essentially weapons one might expect to have seen if the ones Germany used in WWII had an additional five or ten years of prosperity to evolve further. The MP-40 of WWII fame has evolved into the MP-50, and so on. American weapons (M1 Garand, Thompson SMG, 1911A1 .45 pistol, 12 gauge shotgun, etc.) are also found througout the game.

The game is mission based and saves automatically at certain points (usually just before anything serious enough to be likley that you'll die a few times). Your characters life level recharges its self so there is no need for frantic hunting for life packs. There's sniping opportunities and missions, all out assaults, room clearing, defending against wave attacks, boss-like zepplin and tank killing sub-missions, etc. There is a fair amount of puzzle solving, too, where you have to figure out just what part of the environment you can manipulate in order to progress (e.g. which dumpster will let you climb over a fence, which pipe or ledge can you shimmie across...). In short, it's a lot of fun and the whole game revolves around a central story and plot. It's quite an exciting and fun game with only a couple of moments of frustration where you might think there's no practical way to get through a mission ... then suddenly you'll make it. It provides some really fun gameplay, but it's not a terribly long game. If you're proficient or just really lucky, you'll get through with it in a couple or three long sittings. Those are long sittings for me, by the way. After I play a game for about four hours, I generally take a break. It's much better for the temper and much less destructive on the ol' PC that way. ;)

******************* Spoiler Alert! **********************

Okay, my gripes about Turning Point: Fall of Liberty are as follows and there's really only two ... okay, maybe three.

The first gripe is really a pretty trivial one, but it got annoying so I'll include it. Unlike, say Medal of Honor Airborne or Call of Duty 4, there really aren't a lot of options as to how you go through this game. You can f0llow the path laid out before you or you can ... well ... okay you can follow the path laid out before you and that's pretty much it. Not a whole lot of options. This is disguised pretty well, though so it's not like this is a glorified side-scroller or any such. But I like options. Call me a rebel, call me a non-conformist, but I sometimes don't want to go from this point directly to that other point, and dammit, maybe I can find a better sniper post on my own, so let me, okay?

I told you that first one was a bit trivial. Now the next two have spoilers in 'em so be thee warned. First, (or, you know, second, if you're counting) there are a couple of points where the hot spots or whatever just don't want to pop up and you'll swear there is just no way past a point. The most infamous of these is toward the end, on your last mission to destroy a nuclear equipped zepplin (which brings up a whole host of questions ... not a lot of means to escape a nuclear blast when one drops an atom bomb form a blimp ... hmmm ... those crazy Nazis, eh?). You have to walk outside, jump up and grap a ledge to shimmie along. Supposedly you'll see the little icon pop up telling you when you can pull up and enter a window to continue the mission. But ... no, not so much. Mind you, when you try and fail, you have to start back a ways, and go through a rather spectacular if not all that difficult fire-fight (hint: shoot the fuel cans) all over again ... and again ... and again ... Get the idea? This is a game bug and hopefully will be patched. In any case the 'net abounds with walkthroughs and hints but I just got on the ledge and kept moving a wee bit, then trying to climb up 'til it worked. Then what to do from there presented the same problem though every now and again, the annoying, cheeky little icon would pop up.

Okay, my final complaint? The ending! It's ... TERRIBLE!!!! I mean, I played this whole game (SPOILER ALERT!) just to freakin' die in the end? Sure, sure, the death has that whole "13 Rue Madaline" dramatic middle-finger-salute tragic yet heroic ending. But it still SUCKS!!! Sheesh, I did not drag this construction-worker turned war hero though all these levels just so he can freakin' die at the end of his last successful mission! Ah, but are there happy endings anymore? Maybe we've had our eyes opened by the reality of war ... maybe some game designers need to get their heads out of the Washington Post and remember this is supposed to be FUN!

************* End of Spoilers (wasn't that FUN?!) *****************

So, in closing, let me say, this game is a lot of fun (grumbles about the three things mentioned above, especially the last one), and I enjoyed it. All in all, though, I'd wait for the price to drop before I shelled out $40 bucks or so for it. Maybe someone will toss out some fun mods for it and punch it up a bit.