Sad panda is sad

I miss the good 'ol days, when on any given night of the week, I would be getting a call from any one of my friends and they would be wanting to go do something fun.  I, being the unsocial toad I was, never wanted to.  Fast forward to today, and I'm trying to call just about everyone I know to do something, but to no avail.  It's like pulling teeth.  Whatever.

I wouldn't be so annoyed if I had a decent computer to play some cool new games on, but I don't got that.  Or, if I had enough money to my name, I'd just be plinking or sighting something in at the range every evening, but I sure as heck don't got that either.  Alas, fate is not without a deep sense of irony.

Image blatantly stolen from Rob Allen

Back in the saddle

So, I was describing an open position for employment to a friend of mine, when she asked me to describe some of the requirements, one of which was "to be able to sit for prolonged periods of time."  To which I commented, "well, you're certainly wonderfully equipped for that requirement."
No laughs were found after that one.

They see me trollin'

I can't help it.  I just love perpetuating pointless arguments.  It's way too fun.  Especially when the topic is as pointless as facebook.  While arguing with this person, another friend of mine was listening in and giving his opinion on the subject, then was asked to pick sides, but he immediately stated that he was "the Switzerland in the conversation".  To which, I immediately respond, "well if your the Swiss here, gimme Oerlikon please!"

He laughed so hard, he nearly fell off his chair, but nobody else got the joke.  I swear only those who are historically, economically, or politically savvy get my best jokes (to those that don't get it, the Swiss weren't entirely neutral, during WWII, but actually sold armaments to both sides during the war).  But enough about my workday.

Just one sampling of their many fine products.

I actually heard some pretty sad news today, though.  On Saturday, at the new range we like to frequent, there was an accident in which someone was shot in the head with a .45 caliber sidearm.  Now, from what I was told, it was a genuine accident, no horseplay involved, or dropped gun catching, just a weird incident involving an unsecured chair.  The poor boy that was shot, had to life flighted to the hospital directly from the range.  However, by luck or divine predestination, there was a doctor at the range that was able to begin treating him as soon as it happened.  So far, the news is that they boy is alive; hopefully to recover.  My prayers go out to all those affected.

Guns. My only friend.

Due to the variety of recent events, I really have nothing to say for the day.  The only thing that I can really think of to blab about, would be what I've been researching all day.

After careful consideration, I realize I would really like to build an AR15.  Not your standard direct impingement piece of junk, but a piston operated 5.45 build.  This by itself wouldn't be much of a difficult task, but what I would like to do, is have an upper receiver with a non-reciprocating side charging handle, and with that MGI lower receiver that has an interchangeable mag well.  I'd love to be able to use AK-74 mags one day, then switch to AR mags the next.  It's just too cool a concept.  The only thing that worries me is making sure that the non-reciprocating charging handle and the piston conversion components are compatible.  So, back to researching more, to see if this can happen. 

Now, the real icing on the cake, would be to see if I could get a side folding stock to work with of all that. Now that would be seriously cool.

On walkabout

So, I finally went to the Browning firearms museum today.  The verdict?: disappointing, yet still cool.  It was really cool to see loads of priceless, one of a kind prototype guns;  but I was completely disappointed by the fact that there was hardly any information about the guns at all.  I mean, if you're gonna make any kind of museum with priceless historical items, you'd damn well better have not just it's name printed beside it, but have at least a summarized description of what it is, how it works, when it was made, and why.  To not do so is very nearly a waste of my (and everyone else's) time.

On the upside, I got to spread the joy that is attending the Hill Aerospace Museum for the first time with two kind souls.  I just love doing that.  Though I don't think everyone else liked me talking their ears off when we got to every single display.

F-101 Voodoo's are teh hawtness *drool*

Oh yeah, and I actually licked the P-38J display, so I officially own it now.  Mine.  No one else's.  So back off.

Isn't it ironic?

That right now, the people of Libya actually have more freedom to bear arms than any American currently does?  Sorry, I've been watching that newsreel of Gaddafi's compound being raided, and I can't get over the fact that some guy not "protected" by any kind of constitution, gets access to a G36.  A gun that is not much different from some guns you can get in the U.S., but that I will never be able to own, because I stupidly decide to obey worthless, pointless, and convoluted laws like an idiot.

My constant prayer is:  May God soon deliver a painful, sweet, and long lasting justice to all who pretend to "protect" us through bureaucracy and legislation.  All those whom restrict my personal freedom in any way are my enemy, regardless of what flag they salute, and may their blades chip and shatter.  Preferably in their faces, and with some kid's homemade lemonade sprinkled on the wound afterward.

Dammit, I just REALLY want one of these friggin' things!

Once more unto the breach

Never to return.  Ever.  I just want everyone to know that I hate people.  I hate them because I have given a good portion of my life to being nice, helpful, or polite, and all that happens, is that I get crapped on.  Hence why I'm not a nice guy anymore.  I met one person in particular, that shook that up for a while, but it was short lived.  Granted, I'm an awkward soul, with more than an occasional problem expressing myself, but there is just no way I can keep going on this way.  I hate to get all emo on everyone, but the lyrics to this one ought to sum up how I feel about her.

Pulp - Like a Friend 

I want you to know I love you, I really do.  I loved you since the day I met you, and for a short time, I did with all of my heart.  But now I doubt I'm even a friend, because you don't trust me, and I don't trust you; probably never will.  Nor do I think I can respect you.  I wonder if you really know what love even means.

Mall Ninja Gusta!

So, I got some nice unexpected range time the other day. My roomie was dying to sight in a new optic he got for his AR, and a friend of ours was coming along to try out the roomie's new USP and sight in his own rifle while there.  We went to an actual range, and had a fairly successful time, but noticed something rather hilarious.

It was in about the last 15 minutes of being there, when we noticed a lone man approaching the lanes.  He looked like he was in his early 30's, fairly tall, with bald/bic'd head, wearing a t-shirt and jeans.  These details are fairly common of a lot of people who frequent the range, but what set this winner apart, was the fact that he was sporting a massive kevlar vest (NOT an LBE) over his t-shirt, along with the most pretentious drop leg holster I have ever seen.  Seriously, this guy was wearing his holster lower than the average gangsta wears his pants.  The crowning achievement, is of course his massive Oakleys, to complete the ensemble.

When I first saw him, I was expecting others looking like him to show up, and I would assume it was a bunch of cops practicing some formations on the next range over, which is a common occurrence, but no dice.  I couldn't help but stare, and I was desperately fighting the urge to laugh out loud soooo hard.  I had never had the misfortune in all my life to run into any mall ninjas, but there he was.  He couldn't have looked more gay if he was walking around wearing a neon-green strap-on dildo, and no shirt.


Okay, I got nothing against owning a kevlar vest, or any other tactical gear, for that matter, provided that you use it for what it's made for.  I would totally have a vest and other gear myself for hauling around gear and protecting myself if things went all TEOTWAWKI.  However, dressing up with the most worthless holster known to man, with an old vest on top of your shirt, just to go to the range on a lazy afternoon, is not impressing anyone.  It just makes you look like some wanna-be moto prick, who is a poster child for mall ninjas and douchebags everywhere, while at the same time making everyone else who actually knows what they are doing, want to leave to go to a different range.

inside jokes

They are all I really enjoy.  Wish I could go into details of what today had in store for me, but that would be one heck of a long and boring story, with little payoff, so I won't.

Well, one thing that happened, was that I got a coworker some chocolate milk, and they decided to share a bit with me.  But instead of just getting a glass of chocolate milk, I end up getting this ridiculous, unholy concoction, which is a glass of the richest, sweetest, most chocolaty milk known to man, topped with whipped cream, that has chocolate syrup on top of that!  I responded accordingly:

Why have I never thought of doing that before?  Oh yeah, because I'm already ridiculously fat to begin with, and I don't need to think up any more crap I can eat that will kill me.. 

That time again

It's Sunday, and I aint writing anything, except posting the usual music.  I had this one stuck in my head all day on Friday.

Andrew sisters with Danny Kaye - Civilization