Clean It Up

 

Some shooters have White Lightnings, others have Silver Pigeons and more besides, and I won't say they aren't awesome, because they are. But here at the Compound it's pretty much basic budget guns, and they're alright too, provided they work. Which they do, thank God, but here's the thing.

Unless you clean the gun, no matter how pricey it is, even if it's made by the finest gunsmiths by appointment to the Crowned Heads of Europe or Saudi Arabia or the Bush/Clinton crime family or the Great Xi himself, well they're not gonna work if they're not cared for.

So clean those guns even if they're "workhorses" and hardly about to grace a Beretta Gallery. Admonition in mind, I went to work, all the while checking the news to see what was up in the world. 

Disaster! Lo and behold, since the team went fishing and shooting, South Africa collapsed, Cuba took to the streets, the French rioted along with the Greeks and we have to ask, is the disorder spreading? Maybe we should shoot and fish less?

Smart people are cleaning guns.

Cheers,

LSP

A Miracle!

 

I managed to buy a valupak of 12 ammo today and celebrated the miracle with hot dogs. Thanks, LL, for the inspiration. Speaking of which, here's a photo of a Tech Giant caught in the act of taking down Parler. Via Virtual Mirage:

Let's hope this sinister enemy of free speech was brought to swift and decisive justice.

Shoot straight, if you can find any bullets.

Cheers,

LSP

Sunday Sermon - Guns

After Mass #1 VCC (Veteran Crew Chief) asked, "D'you have a minute, LSP?" I did and we strolled over to his rig. "I'd like you to have these, if you want them. They're yours." I thanked VCC, who's famous for fighting in the EMUs, running motorcycle hippies out of his stock tank and being an all 'round good man. 

A Bolt

The weapons belonged to his brother, who I'd buried a short while ago and once had the opportunity to hunt dove with. He was a good man in the meeting, and I'll look after his A Bolt 300 Win Mag, O/U 12 and .22 WMR varminter, to say nothing of praying for his soul. Rest in peace.

Some kind of Italian 12

But is there a point to this short homily, beyond gunnish show and tell? A wider meaning, a helpful Gospel message? Yes, there is, and it's twofold.

 

Marlin .22 WMR

Sacrifice, along with generosity of heart and spirit covers a multitude of sin, and the second advisement is like unto it. A free citizen is able to defend themselves against tyranny. 

I'd say that's all pretty relevant, right about now.

Gun Rights,

LSP

Proper Little Blast Off

It seemed right to go for a shoot today, so that's what we did. Loaded a 12 and a 20 into the rig along with a .22 plinker, and headed to the range via the Walmart ammo depot.

A Plinker

The kid hadn't shot in a year and wondered if he'd hit anything. My apothatic advice was, "Put the bead on the clay and shoot." Which he did and successfully smoked the clays like they were going out of fashion.

A Gun

Take that, misnomered "White Flyer." And again, the easy to shoot CZ SxS 20 was the gun of choice over the clunky 12. Still, pump action's fun enough, if only for being illegal in once great nations because criminals obey gun laws.

A Boy

A couple of value packs of 12 and 20 later and two boxes of clays sent to skeet heaven, we fell back to some plinking and shot plates, shotgun shells and assorted range debris 'til it was time to head home.

A Grill

And that was that, big shotgunnery fun. In other news, Theresa May's abdicated like the low-level, failed, Eurocrat, elite, NWO globalist she is, and Trump's pulled the Declass trigger. Let the dice fall.

Your Pal,

LSP

Monday Shoot

One of the good things about the Feast of the Annunciation is you get to go out and shoot, which is exactly what we did. The orange adversary fell under a flak-tower hail of shot. 

I tell you, it was like screaming Messerschmitts going down over the Channel. But here's a thought.

If you want to hit the clay or for that matter the bird, you mostly have to aim. That's right, put the bead on the target as opposed to firing off in the general direction like some crazed Hitler Youth. It makes a difference.

You see, people come to shotgunnery with all kinds of myths and psychic seconds of forever. They think, understandably perhaps, that they have to over lead the fast moving orange or feathered target. This means they don't aim at it, take too long over the thing, and miss the shot.

No. Those lead BBs are flying out of the barrel at 1,200+ fps, they're fast, really fast. So put the bead on, aim, and shoot. Don't hold back, don't hesitate, engage the target and boom, smoke the clay, drop the bird.

After a while it becomes muscle memory and you can get into the nuance and lead of the thing, not that I'm an expert, but first things first, don't overthink the shot or you'll miss.

There's a moral here if you care to draw it.

Texas Rules,

LSP

Blinded!

My mental alarm got me up just before 0500 and then the physical alarm kicked in, not to be outdone by my not-so-smart-phone, buzzing with textual insistence above the din of the cheap made in China plastic clock. 

At this point you have two options. Turn the racket off and go back to sleep, in which case your position's likely to get overrun, or turn the din off, answer Putin's texts, get up, and advance to contact. I chose the latter option and one gassed up rig later I was on my way to a duck blind, somewhere in Texas.

I got there pretty much on time, after driving through the narrow, winding, pitch black rural roads of the Lone Star State, and walked across a field through fierce cold wind to the blind. Red light, camo, and a group of guys with guns in the enclosed metal space.

It brought me back to the army, the smell and the sight of it, along with the building adrenaline of putting those guns to work any time soon in the predawn. I liked that, I liked the strong black coffee that came with it, too.

Then, just before first light, calling began and several flocks of ducks flew over, fast overhead and out of range. Up! Front! A group of birds appeared like magic out of the half-light in front of the blind. A split second of action, the explosion and muzzle flash  of the guns, and it was over. 

I shot poorly but several birds were down and we waited for more. No joy. Perhaps the stiff chill wind and choppy water of the lake persuaded the ducks to look for a calmer place to land. Maybe an incoming cold front had altered their flight plan. Who knows.

What we do know is that it was worth getting up early and getting out in the field. Big fun. It might even make sense to bivvy up overnight and be in position to shoot the next day, which would save the drive but make for a cold evening. We'll see.

So, a good morning was had by all and then it was back to the Compound to regroup and the next evolution, visiting the sick. But that, readers, is another story.

Don't be a pathetic comsymp lib, LSP

Don't be a pathetic comsymp lib, get in the blind.

Gun rights,

LSP