Showing posts with label Alamo beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alamo beer. Show all posts

Saturday, June 18, 2016

Don't be an Illuminati Shill, Shoot



There's nothing wrong with collecting guns. You can stare at them, lovingly, as they sit in their racks, gleaming in the Gun Room, and that's just fine. But the end or the telos of the gun is to hit a target with a bullet, moving with explosive energy and power. 

If guns aren't doing that they're not fulfilling their potential, which isn't fair on the firearm. With that in mind, I took BW, her friend T and some of the armory to Range #2.


You're Right Handed, BW

It was hot, no doubt about it, but that didn't stop us squaring up against the opposition under a fierce Texan sun that seemed to bleach everything with white light.  A Glock 21, Beretta PX4, AR 15 and a Ruger American .22 all fulfilled themselves, putting rounds down range and on target.


T Gauging The Enemy

T, who works for the Beretta Gallery in NYC, enjoyed shooting weapons that aren't generally available on the Island, and he shot well, taking to the violent and deadly .45s like a natural. He's a wing shooter on the Rainbow Hued East Coast (RHEC) and favors a classic double trigger, straight stock, side by side 20 gauge, for shooting pheasant and woodcock. I'm jealous of that gun and he's jealous of the freedom to shoot .45s and evil assault rifles. 


A Target

Are we even? No, because I can save up and buy the SxS. Sorry, T. rally 'round and vote the RHEC out of power, please. In fact, send the elite millionaire socialist leaders to jail while you're at it. The world will be a safer place.


A Typical Day in Texas

BW got in some practice on the Ruger and wanted to shoot left handed, which is odd, because she's right handed. That peculiar trend was put right, I think, and accuracy improved accordingly.




Shoot over, we headed back for home and some ice cold beer. And that's what it's all about, here at the Compound.

Shoot straight,

LSP