Well Done Boy

We love it when our children do well and, of course, it grieves us when they don't. So well done boy on passing your promotion board this morning, by unanimous consent. This means he's off to Sergeant School in July.

front row, second from left

It's been a bit of a journey, both before and after he marched off the field at Benning, but he's risen to the challenge. Good work, keep it coming, and thanks again to LL for solid mentorship.

Happily,

LSP

Smoke That Skeet

 

Someone once said, famously, Speed is fine. Accuracy is final, and skeet shooting's a bit of both, not that I'm any kind of expert. The orange bird zips out fast and you have to be on to get it. A typically quick, accurate, snap shot.

And how good when you connect and smoke the clay challenger. There's something especially satisfying about hitting that small moving target and watching it dust off. Big fun, but here's the thing, readers.

You may think, because shotgun, that pointing in the general direction and letting loose is going to work, street sweeper style. Think again. It helps to aim. Seriously. Don't forget, in the shotgunnery excitement of all, to aim.  Put that bead on the bottom edge of the clay, "popsicle" it, and squeeze the trigger. A fast movement for sure, but an accurate one.

But what am I saying. All you competition shooters out there have forgotten more about the sport than I will ever know. Regardless, the misnomered White Flyers took a right beating today, not least from the kid. Great result.

Then, after a headshot plinkathon against small steel at 150 yards, .22 WMR, we headed back to base. And what a good day out in the country with guns, just sheer enjoyment. Thanks, CR, for the invite. And now?

Pork chops, Yorkshire Pudding(!), roast potatoes and all the rest. A delicious end to a great day's shoot. It's raining too, another plus. Thank you, Climate Change.

Your Pal,

LSP

Well Shoot - Another Foray Into The Heart of Southern Darkness

 

Birds sang and the sun shone in the big Texan sky. Yes, it was time to head out to the countryside yet again as part of our ongoing investigation into the scourge of rural systemic racism. And before you could whistle Dixie there I was, in a ranch shop, talking guns.

You know how it is, one thing led to another, a couple of Polaris quads revved up and there we were, slinging skeet and shooting plates. Racist? Well, the guns were black and brown, the plates white and the skeet orange. The quads were green. Hmmm. 

It was hard to stop myself admiring a WWII trophy Luger as I reflected on this knotty indigenous peoples justice conundrum, to say nothing of a canned Enhanced Remington 1911. The latter shot well, scoring hits on a plate at around 75 yards, big fun.

Then it was time to visit the Confederate Air Force at an aerodrome not too far from my friend's ranch, DD has a hanger there where he builds and restores airplanes. 

There was a CAF trainer on the tarmac about to get ready for take off. Some of you'll know the make/model but I forget the details.

Regardless, DD was working on a Cessna and the wings of another plane, which he showed us after a delicious snack of poppers, smoked sausage and ice cold beer. What a gentleman, I do not say that lightly. And he still flies, though in his '80s. He'd been in the US Aerobatics team. 

Then it was time to head back to the bucolic haven that is this small farming community in North Central Texas to hear someone's confession. Was this whole experience irredeemably, incurably, insufferably racist?

I can't answer that but I do say this, it was big fun.

Your Pal,

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

Warrior On The Edge Of Skeet

I was just about to leave the house when I noticed a shotgun standing nonchalantly by a box of unopened clays.  "Put the gun in the truck," I thought to myself. 

don't shoot the fridge LSP, for goodness sake.

It's just a yobbish Mossberg Ulti Mag which I bought at a "Guitar & Gun Show" for $200. Why do those two things seem to go together? Whatever, the gun's been worth every penny; shot plenty of dove with it and the odd rabbit target of opportunity. It's a bit dinged up but that doesn't matter. Some people say it's no good with 3.5" shells but I wouldn't know, I just use 3" and the gun works fine.

So after a refreshing canter/hand gallop I unleashed the power of Mossberg against the hapless clay adversary.

I like shooting skeet. It's satisfying to watch them blow up.

Shoot straight,

LSP