A Kel-Tec PF9

Given

We exchanged gifts today, both for Christmas and tomorrow's wedding. Absolutely no question about it. It was the right gift.

FWIW, he gave me 100 rounds of 45ACP...... again.

Wedding Joke

I have to remember this for tomorrow........

Barack Obama meets with the Queen of England. He asks her, "Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?"

"Well," says the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people."

Obama frowns "But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?"

The Queen takes a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy. You just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle." The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. "Please send Tony Blair in here, would you?"

Tony Blair walks into the room. "Yes, my Queen?"

The Queen smiles. "Answer me this, please, Tony. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?"

Without pausing for a moment, Tony Blair answers, "That would be me."

"Yes! Very good," says the Queen.

Obama goes back home to ask Joe Biden, his vice president, the same question. "Joe. Answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It's not your brother and it's not your sister. Who is it?"

"I'm not sure," says Biden. "Let me get back to you on that one." He goes to his advisors and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally, he ends up in the men's room and recognizes Colin Powell's shoes in the next stall.

Biden asks Powell, "Colin! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister. Who is it?"

Colin Powell yells back, "That's easy. It's me!"

Biden smiles, and says, "Thanks!" Then, he goes back to speak with Obama.

"Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It's Colin Powell."

Obama gets up, stomps over to Biden, and angrily yells into his face, "No, you idiot! It's Tony Blair!"

Prose as a Gift

I don’t carry a gun to kill people. I carry a gun to keep from being killed.

I don’t carry a gun to scare people. I carry a gun because sometimes this world can be a scary place.

I don’t carry a gun because I’m paranoid. I carry a gun because there are real threats in the world.

I don’t carry a gun because I’m evil. I carry a gun because I have lived long enough to see the evil in the world.

I don’t carry a gun because I hate the government. I carry a gun because I understand the limitations of government.

I don’t carry a gun because I’m angry. I carry a gun so that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life hating myself for failing to be prepared.

I don’t carry a gun because my sex organs are too small. I carry a gun because I want to continue to use those sex organs for the purpose for which they were intended for a good long time to come.

I don’t carry a gun because I want to shoot someone. I carry a gun because I want to die at a ripe old age in my bed, and not on a sidewalk somewhere tomorrow afternoon.

I don’t carry a gun because I’m a cowboy. I carry a gun because, when I die and go to heaven, I want to be a cowboy.

I don’t carry a gun to make me feel like a man. I carry a gun because men know how to take care of themselves and the ones they love.

I don’t carry a gun because I feel inadequate. I carry a gun because unarmed and facing three armed thugs, I am inadequate.

I don’t carry a gun because I love it. I carry a gun because I love life and the people who make it meaningful to me.

Syd

Thank you for writing this Syd. It is the perfect prose to go with the pistol I am giving my newly minted son-in-law at his Christmas wedding today. That along with directions to Gunsite and Thunder Ranch.

I am certain that some in my extended family may question the gift. That is not my concern, really. My concern is that the man have the means to protect himself and those I love. They will reside in Houston. So, for those who may doubt the wisdom of Syd's words, and my thoughts on the matter, here is one more reason.......

On December 9, 2009 in Houston, Texas, a tire shop owner used his handgun to save his life against four armed and violent felons. Police say that four armed criminals attempted to rob the El Mante Tire Shop on the 11000 block of Bauman Road at about 8:30 PM. Fearing for his life, the store owner drew his lawfully carried handgun and fatally shot one of the robbers. The three surviving robbers turned tail and fled in a black Mercury Mountaineer pimped out with chrome rims.

The store owner was unharmed, alive, and after the expected formalities with law enforcement, went home to his loving family. That is as it should be, but never let it be forgotten that the reason his life was spared was because he refused to die and because he had a gun at hand.

Ugly Gun Sunday

Playing Lead Guitar

"What are you doing now-a-days, Xavier?" one of my old nursing instructors, now gray but still intimidating, asked me. I was dressed in my finest duds for the pinning of a new crop of students nurses, all fresh and eager in their starched whites, capes and caps. We were at the reception, the new nurses having recited the Nightingale Pledge by candlelight. Back home, blood soaked scrubs lay in a laundry basket in my bedroom.

"Oh, I'm the lead guitarist in a Southern rock band," I lied.

"I bet you are," she replied, peering over her reading glasses at my soul.

"If I leave here tomorrow
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'cause there's too many places I've got to see."

Esophageal varices are blood filled devils at the base of the esophagus, that arise from the azygos vein, and the superior vena cava. Usually the result of portal hypertension from liver damage, whether caused by alcoholism or hepatitis, they can become the cause of a dramatic blood spewing demise in a matter of minutes.

When the first strains of "Free Bird" begin to sound from my iPod, a metamorphosis takes place with my team. Some suddenly realize they missed their smoke break. Others realize that they are being summoned, and they enter my suite with trepidation in their hearts, but willing.

"But, if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change."

When Big Joe rolled the gurney containing the young black man in, there were already splatters of crimson on his sneakers and blood on his pillow. I went through my recital of preparations with the chirping at the beginning of "Free Bird" filling the air. "Do you drink? Smoke? Illegal drugs?" Negative. "Hepatitis, HIV, AIDS, Tuberculosis, Sickle Cell?" No.

Realizing that Lynyrd Skynyrd may be the last thing this young man wanted to hear, I switched the playlist to Motown.

"You can't hurry love
No, you just have to wait
She said love don't come easy
It's a game of give and take......."

"False teeth, false eyes, hearing aid, hairpiece?" I asked as though reciting a poem long memorized. The young man removed a partial plate with several gold teeth. "Tounge ring or lip ring?" No. I looked over his history, searching for an idiology. He had been banded on five previous occasions. That was not good. Each previous banding had likely resulted in scar tissue right where we needed to work. I got my goggles out of the drawer and tightened the cinch securing them to my head.

The team assembled, consent obtained, we began the sedation. He did not fight much as we entered his esophagus with the gastroscope. For a man of his age, that was not a good sign. The base of his esophagus was a fearsome mass of lavender scar tissue and one violent purple bulging clot. "Bander," I ordered.

A band ligator was being loaded on an alternate scope. It is a device that can deploy seven rubber bands, one at a time. Seven chances, seven little rubber life preservers to stop a varicele bleed. Just yesterday, we had saved a life by working with two scopes, the first applying direct pressure against a hemorrhaging varicele while the equipment was loaded on another. "Hurry."

"Ligator." As the first scope was ripped from the young man's esophagus, a great rush of bubbling blood spewed from his mouth and nostrils. I quickly inserted the Yankauer to the back of his oropharynx to keep us from being sprayed in a volcanic gush of hematemesis. The banding scope went down into the torrent of blood, the monitor screen an unfocused blur of red. My physician was relying on memory, working blind. I continued to manage the flow of frothy crimson as best I could when at last the cup to the bander reached it's mark and sucked the tissue inside.

"Although I might be laughing loud and hearty
Deep inside I'm blue
So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears."

Through the ligation cup, we were looking directly into the azygos vein, at it's opposite wall. Pop! The first band was deployed. Suction released. The tide of blood blew the precarious band off the scar tissue, washing it right up and out of the young man's mouth. Quickly the physician reapplied pressure to the area with the gastroscope itself.

"Get me blood!" I ordered.

Pop!

"They are still type and matching."

"Emergency O positive!" I ordered again as I looked towards the monitors.

Pop!

"Outside I'm masquerading
Inside my hope is fading"

37/12...... SpO2-0. Damn. "He's not moving air Doc," I called for the crash cart. Big Joe rolled it in. Laryngoscope. ET tube. Bag. No carotid pulse. "Start CPR." Big Joe found his mark and as I bagged, he brought up the pressure with his compressions. "Have we got that blood yet?!!"

"Morrhuate Sodium," Doc ordered. "Epi!" More blood gushed from the young man's mouth and nostrils, dribbling across his dead eyes. "Epi."

Emergency O positive blood was spiked and shoved in. A femoral line was inserted and secured.

"Stop compressions." No pulse. "Resume CPR." I switched positions with Joe and he bagged as I compressed the chest. When the respiratory therapist arrived, she relieved Joe and he left the room. With each compression, more blood was being blown from the patient's mouth. The respiratory therapist cupped her hand over the patient's mouth to keep the cataclysmic flow off of us.

"Bicarb."

"Dopamine."

Another unit of blood. Bagging and compressions. Nothing. Finally, CPR was stopped. He was dead. Bled out. My paper scrub cap was stuck to my forehead with sweat and blood. I found Joe crouched outside the door. He had grown up with the young man. They were team mates on their high school football team. Friends. "I'm sorry," I said. Joe just nodded. Dried tears streaked his face.

"Bye, bye, its been a sweet love.
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please don't take it badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame."

The Wedding Gun

What kind of man gets his future son-in law a gun for a wedding gift?

A man who trusts his son-in law. A man who believes his daughter has made the right choice. A man who is ready to give away his most precious gift, who wants the husband to be able to protect that gift of which he is most proud.

This is the pistol I purchased for my son-in-law to be. Training is part of the package, but I know he understands that. When it is opened, some may question such a gift, but I have a feeling he will understand. It is a Colt. A heirloom. A gun I would carry myself. It is not an evil thing. It is a tool that allows for defense of life and all that is precious. Because he will enter matrimony with one who is most precious to me, my wish is that he have the means to protect his bride, my daughter.

How could I do any less?

An Old Vet

Ugly Gun Sunday

Pawn Shop Circuit: Trek 970

I swung into Kenny's pawn shop while Christmas shopping today, and hanging on the rack outside was a purple bike. Hmmmmm I looked it over..... A Trek mountain bike. Cro-moly lugged frame. Solid Shimano components. No suspension to wear out, and a rack on the back. $49. A perfect base bike for a back-up commuter bike.

"Hey Kenny," I asked as I entered the shop, "How much do you want for the purple bike out there"

"Well, all the bikes are 20% off today," Kenny said. "Let me figure it up."

"Mind if I take it down from the rack and ride it a bit?" I asked.

"Go ahead," said Kenny.

Forty dollars, another bike. My wife is going to kill me.

Survive

I remember when this emblematic song hit the airwaves. 1981. I was a much younger man then, and the song reverberated a chord in me. I became a Hank fan, and I appreciated the man as much as his music, even though the image he sold along with his music did little for me.

What I didn't expect was to see myself in the video of the song, released in 2007. 3:42. Wow!

Thought for Today:

"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."
~ Sun Tzu

Imagine being awakened at midnight by a crazed drunk trying to break into your home. Imagine you have never fired a shotgun before, but your son has one in the home. You call 911 and the police are on the way when the drunk uses a patio chair to shatter the glass door at the rear of your home.



"Riley had stepped across the back patio threshold and into the kitchen," said Lincoln County Sheriff Chuck Mangion. "His motivations are unclear from this investigation," Mangion said. "He went over a fence with a locked gate and he had to fight off a dog once he got in the yard, so I doubt he was looking for help," Mangion said. "I doubt that (getting help) was his motivation." Riley's sister was passed out from drugs and alcohol in his car. Riley himself had convictions for driving under the influence of alcohol as well as a possession of marijuana conviction.

District Attorney Richard Smothermon issued a ruling yesterday that Donna Jackson had the legal authority to shoot and kill Billy Dean Riley about 12:40 a.m. on December 12, 2009. Smothermon has declined to file any criminal charges against her.

All I can say is good shoot Ms. Jackson. I'm sorry you were forced to take these measures, but I am glad you had the resolve to defend yourself. I'm glad too, that you had a gun that allowed you to overcome a threat to your life. Thank you Mr. Smothermon.



The entire 911 call below:

The Phoenix Police Department is on the defensive after a September 2008 incident that led a Phoenix homeowner to sue the city and police department. Tony Arambula is seeking $5.75 million in damages for himself and his family after he was shot six times by police on September 17, 2008, after officers responded to a call about an intruder inside his central Phoenix home.



Phoenix Police Spokesperson Tommy Thompson said in a press release this week that officers responded to a call at Arambula's Phoenix home, but "after entering the residence, one of the officers mistakenly shot the armed home owner." Arambula now alleges while at his home that night, officers conspired to cover up the mistake. Michael Manning, Arambula's attorney, said the 911 tape helps prove the claim. "The sergeant says, 'don't worry about it, I got your back,'" said Manning.

The press release from Phoenix police goes on to say that the "department has been honest and forthright from the very onset of this incident. No attempt has been made to conceal the truth or the facts surrounding it." Thompson acknowledges Arambula's lawsuit in the release and says his department will not be making any further statements as the litigation process takes its course. The claim, filed by Manning on behalf of Arambula, names the city, its police department, the officer who shot Arambula and two other officers.

The night of the shooting, Arambula said an intruder had broken into his home. Arambula called 911 and told police he was holding the intruder at gunpoint. As officers arrived, Arambula's wife Lesley said she told them her husband was inside the house holding a gun on the intruder. "I told them my husband was inside, he was the one with the gun," she said Tuesday.

The officers entered the house with a shout of "Police!" Almost immediately afterward, Phoenix police Officer Brian Lilly shot Arambula in the back. Three more shots were fired at Arambula, one hitting him in the arm.

The claim said that when Arambula fell to the floor, Lilly shot him two more times. That's when Arambula told Lilly he'd shot the wrong man. In his Internal Affairs interview, Lilly admitted firing at Arambula without any verbal warning, according to the claim. Arambula said he did everything he was supposed to do in that situation. "I would have loved if they would have told me to get on the floor and drop to my knees," Arambula said. "To not have given me any opportunity to not get shot, it's confusing. I pray that this never happens to another family."

High Dollar Nikon

Perhaps the rarest of all Nikon Collectibles and most significant Nikon Camera ever produced. The camera was designed and used for NASA Space Shuttle Challenger and Columbia Missions. The Camera has much improved and oversized buttons, levers and windows to accomodate the usage of gloves.

This auction is for the Nikon F3HP Nasa Camera and The Rarest Nikkor 55mm F2 UV Nikkor for usage in space. This includes two battery packs. A protective cap for the spare battery pack. The Rare Focus Pins (Still in the Bag) With The Rare Tall Shutter release for Gloves.

The 55mm UV Nikkor is amongst the rarest of lenses and was specifically designed to be used with this camera while photographing in space. This lens also designed to use gloves. Featured a large aperature ring with a f=Stop Range from F2-F16Has a coal black finish and Unique focus free operation with a very unique rear element as seen in photos. Has unique metal caps that are also unique only to this excessivly rare lens. Few in existance. This is Number 19. Many have been lost and this one has been sitting on a NASA Shelf a long long time. Few People have ever seen and very little is known about this lens, Perhaps the rarest Nikkor.

Price: US $69,000.00

But hey...... Free shipping!

Last Night's News

I just learned my daughter, the eldest, the attorney, is getting married the day after Christmas. He's a good man. He listens. Gave me ammo for Christmas the past three years. In the right caliber.

I need to get him a wedding present. Something nice. Something that says I respect you and trust you. Something blue. With a pony and ivory. I'm thinking in a 45 caliber.

Ugly Gun Sunday

I don't know if its real or a Hollywood prop, but it is ugly.

Two Words

Comcast Sucks.

Meanwhile, at West Point.......

A U.S. Army cadet reads a book entitled "Kill Bin Laden" as he waits with other cadets for U.S. President Barack Obama to deliver an address on U.S. policy and the war in Afghanistan at the U.S. Military Academy in West Point.

Not surprisngly, the mass media fails to note a few things about this particular cadet that sets him apart. You don't get that geedunk from a gumball machine.





Another excellent read.......... It's good to see that the men destined to defend my ass are not reading "Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance"

Torture Test

Todd torture tests a new pistol over at pistoltraining.com.