Saturday

*Gonna go fire some birdshot tomorrow.  At the indoor range.  Got an itchy trigger finger.

*Scored an antique hand crank tool grinder at the Flea today.  Came home, used it to put a piss-poor edge on a railroad spike, then took it apart, cleaned it up, and determined that it has some...issues.  Irreparable issues.  But it got me thinking.  They still make these handy little machines, for less than a C-note.  I'm gonna buy me one and use it to put sharp edges on dull metal.  I try not to use power machines if I don't have to, just don't like them.

*Sometimes the cat is just TOO warm and TOO fluffy, but I can't turn her down and I can't kick her out from under the covers, so I just have to bear with it.  Things could be worse.

*That's it, just a short entry tonight.  Time to go to sleep.

Ugh

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Well, shoot, I didn't mean to re-format/design this blog, but I hit the wrong button and there was no going back.  I have to fine-tune a couple of things but it seems OK for the time-being.

But Black Friday doesn't care!  Black Friday just roars on.

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A Small Miracle

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This post isn't about me getting laid.  When that small miracle occurs, rest assured I will describe the event in excruciating, stomach-churning detail.  No, what I am about to say is infinitely more interesting.  You might wanna empty your bowels before you read any further, so that the shock of the following paragraph doesn't cause you to fill your pants.  Think I'm joking?  Hey - don't say I didn't warn you.

Back in the early-mid 80s, when I was a budding camper/survivalist, I purchased a high-tech waterproof flashlight at a store in Palo Alto.  I remember that the battery was special - it was lithium, and it was supposed to last 10 years(!).  Let's say I bought that Tekna Splashlight in 1985.  Well, that flashlight never felt quite right to actually use, so in the decades since it has spent years at a time hidden in various bugout containers, and to this day I have never actually used it.  But every few years I pull it out and turn it on...and it still works, as the photo below attests!  The battery is...let's do the arithmetic here...probably 27+ years old, and still functioning.  That is rather astonishing.  Most batteries begin to leak acid after a few short years, and actually destroy the plastic casing of the flashlight in doing so.  That's it.  That's my exciting story.  You may now fill your pants, if you haven't already vacated yourself.

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Tomorrow I may take a file to the false edge of my East German AK-47 bayonet, and attempt to give it a real, double-sided edge.  I run the risk of utterly destroying the blade, but then again the thing is built like a tank and can only spread peanut butter at the present time, so I don't have much to lose.  It's not like I'm going to diminish its razor edge.

The photo below shows the false edge, which can't cut paper.  Yes, this...tool, for want of a better word...would function as a bayonet...but you would have to jam it into your victim, the way you would jam a nail or a pen or a railroad spike or anything else that does not have an actual sharp knife edge.

This next photo shows the other side of the blade, which has precisely no edge whatsoever!  This is the side that I will file down.  The key will be in angling the new edge consistently.

Don't get me wrong - I absolutely adore my AK-47 bayo.  Like the AK-47 it is meant to augment, it is designed to last a hundred years, even if buried in the mud and never maintained.  I don't refer to it as a knife, but rather as a tool, because while it can't presently cut anything, it can spread peanut butter, dig, open letters, punch holes in flesh, pry nails, cut wire...and replace a tent stake.  It appeals to the creative side of me.  You can't bust it, no matter what you use it for.  But if you did bust it, you wouldn't care anyhow, because it's no work of art.  Just think of it this way: THIS BAYONET DOES NOT EVER NEED TO BE SHARPENED.  BECAUSE IT CAN'T BE SHARPENED.  IT HAS NO EDGE.

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After less than a week, my lock picking skills have increased dramatically.  I figured something out.  When using the tension lever, there is no tension, the "tension zone", and full tension.  Full tension locks the pins in place.  What you want to do is hold the lever in the tension zone, and gently move it back and forth, taking care not to bridge the boundary to no tension or full tension.  When you learn to do this correctly, locks that otherwise seemed virtually impossible to open, open in a matter of seconds.  The reason being that the gentle motion in the tension zone allows the pins to slide right into place...and stay.

But also, my sense of touch has increased dramatically.  I am using new parts of my brain.  It causes me to think differently, and to visualize the interior of the lock.  Pretty cool.

Lock picking is a fun hobby.  And the motto for us hobbyists is: "Only pick locks that you own".  For obvious legal reasons...but also because it damages the locks.

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Beautiful weather today.  Absolutely heavenly.  Spent the afternoon in the shed, sorting tools and materials, figuring out some crafty and inexpensive Christmas presents.  The cat stalked and almost caught a bird, but the bird merrily flew away.  I went on two separate bike rides around town.  No traffic.  Ahhhhhh.  Happy Thanksgiving!

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Two-Wheel Drive Motorcycles

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Rokon seems to have been the only maker of two-wheel drive bikes in the US of A - or anywhere - for as long as I can remember.  I've never driven one and rarely seen one, but they hold a certain mystique as being durable and unique All American machines.  As far as I can tell, they aren't like regular motorcycles.  Their engines put out a scant 7 HP, they have low-geared automatic transmissions, they don't have suspensions, they have hollow wheels which can float the bike when empty or be filled with water or fuel, they have very high clearance, and of course they have power to their rear AND front wheels.  They look like real ball-busters.  Perhaps the coolest thing about them is that they actually function more like tractors than motorcycles, and they can be outfitted with a plethora of attachments to turn them into farm/work vehicles.  Accessories include a game rack, a side car, a PTO with pump or generator, saddlebags, farm implements and front suspension.  If I had the money to outfit a Bug Out retreat, I'd furnish it with a few dirt bikes for transportation, and at least one Rokon for work.

Enter Christini Technologies, which is now producing state-of-the-art two-wheel drive dirt bikes.  You've got to see them to believe them.  Unlike the Rokons with their ungainly front wheel chain drive, the Christini's front drive is hidden within the frame and front forks.  They are decidedly hi-tech, 2-stroke bikes.  Check out their website!

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Do you ever miss the good old days, when the Cold War was in full swing and the threat of nuclear war was ever-present and the Russkies were scaring the piss out of us with their bat shit antics in the Sandbox?  Sometimes I do.  It wasn't a fun time to live in, but it has become brighter in retrospect.  I remember honest-to-God REAL survival magazines like Soldier of Fortune and Survive, and t-shirts that said Big Mac Attack and Nuke Em Til They Glow Then Shoot Em In The Dark.  Back then you could buy Uzis and real AR-15s and high-capacity pistols in California, and full-auto parts kits at gun shows.  But the world has changed.  TEOTWAWKI took a sharp turn and become The Slow Slide.  Survivalism, my Friends, has gone mainstream.

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Tuesday Hippie Farm News

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Hi!  Holy fuck, work really knocked the piss out of me this afternoon.  I got hit with a ton of work and sank under it like hot shit in cold water.  Oh man.  Thank God the day ended.  Now I'm at home on the couchola - picking locks, researching chain mail supplies and breech-loading snap caps for fun.  Was gonna watch Paper Moon, but left the effin DVD at work....

So I found a new gear site that is kind of like County Comm but better.  Less merchandise, but a better selection of unique BOB/EDC high-end micro-gear.  It's called VigilantGear.  Also, located zipper pull-concealed handcuff keys HERE.  And, I went online looking for lock pick sets and found a bunch of picking gear that I won't even post links too...some things just shouldn't be legal in the hands of civilians.  Really, the peeps selling this stuff online are fucking the rest of society over.

The kitteh kitteh is looking beautiful these days, glowing and reminding me of a wedge of German chocolate cake with a wet nose every time I look at her.  She likes it when her Poppa sits with her on the couch.  Last night she was a little fireball, kept my legs hot all night long.  When she cleans herself under the covers, her whiskers and fur tickle like mad.  It's ridiculous, it's like sleeping with a hot, heavy, feathered potato.

Season III of The Walking Dead really rocks hard - they finally eased up on the drama and got more story/action in the works.  It is hard core!  Dang.  There really isn't any letup any more, it's just run, fight, kill, on and on.  Me likey.

Me, I'm lucky.  Got a good job to work at, a blessed cottage to live in, the most beautiful kitty cat in the world, the best sister ever, a great bicycle, and my dream M590A1.  I live in California, and you can say what you want about it, but it is in many ways one of the freest places anywhere, ever.  It lies at the far edge of World culture and civilization.  Go any farther West and you get wet.  Can't wait to live up North one day, deep in the mountains.

Of course, everything is not perfect in Egypt - I also have a fucking bladder infection that has required 2 separate fingers up my ass and 3 rounds of antibiotics to date.  Ever had a 35-year old Asian woman stick her finger up your ass?  One word: Mortification.  "What did you feel?"  "A BURNING SENSATION!"

Ordered 3 rain barrels the other day, got a good deal.  Gonna daisy-chain them together under a single spout, probably raise them a foot or so and attach a hose for the lawn.

The current fantasy is an AimPro Tactical 185.  Still waiting to get pricing from the website, they don't list any.

Well, it's another boring post from another boring Hippie Survivalist.  Yeah, this ain't the best blog in the world, I know.  But it gets around!  God, shotguns, gear porn, the lovely kitteh, prophecies.  Once in awhile I even have something worth saying.  Hey, Happy Turkey Day!

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My Baby

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Yes, Sir - that's my baby in the photos below.  I've owned a Mossberg 590A1 Mariner for many years now, and the only regret I have is fucking its finish up.  It is a hell of a weapon - extremely fun, intimidating, heavy-duty and effective.  This shotgun comes stock with 5+1 capacity, a weatherproof Marinecote finish, an 18.5-inch heavy wall barrel, an aluminum trigger assembly, an aluminum safety, a metal magazine cap, a brass bead sight, and lightweight plastic furniture.  It is a heavy weapon, much heavier than a Mossberg 500.  The weight does not bother me, though - I figure it just reduces the recoil and muzzle jump that much more.

In the photo below, the modifications I have made are, from muzzle to stock (L - R): a fiber optic sight, a Vang Comp +1 magazine tube extender, an AimPro Parkerized heat shield, a Hogue foregrip, a bright red magazine tube follower (not visible), a 5-shell ammo sleeve, and a 13" LOP Hogue stock.  I do not have a sling attached at this time, but the swivel studs are in place.

This photo (below) shows the Grateful Dead sticker on the receiver :-), and the open action.

IMHO the fiber optic sight, magazine extender, red magazine follower, and ammo sleeve are must-haves.  The Hogue furniture is VERY nice and grippy, but not essential.  The heat shield is cool as hell but a bit of a gimmick - my shotgun doesn't have a bayonet lug.

All of the modifications shown above are recent additions, with the exception of the fiber optic sight, which I've had - and used - for years.

I have shot skeet with this gun on 3 occasions (before the above-mentioned additions) and it was incredibly fun and satisfying each time.  The gun had considerably less kick than a longer-barreled skeet gun, weighed less, was much easier to shoulder and maneuver, and was very effective at hitting the first clay pigeon...but not so good at hitting the second clay pigeon.  The shot pattern simply opened up too wide too fast to effectively dust the pigeon at range.  A hit on the second pigeon usually consisted of a pellet or two striking it, and it breaking into two pieces.

I recently learned how to breech-load, and it is now one of my favorite hobbies.  I use snap caps at home, but have range experience, too.  Even tried breech-loading at skeet!  Fun as hell.

I know people that excel at the pistol, or are into optics and long-distance shooting, and that's fine.  I'm happy for them.  But it takes all kinds to make the world go around.  Me, I love my short-range 590A1 riot gun.  I have an affinity for it.  It's my CQB End-of-the-World weapon. Now I just gotta see how much survival kit I can pack into the stock...

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Bat Cat - Part the Second

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Alfred tossed me out of the mansion again last night, after he caught me licking the frosting off of Robin’s birthday cake.  The stodgy old crumb.  Never one to let the dramatics of an old buffoon get me down, I hoofed it thru the rain to Gotham’s Gaslight District.  There I threw dice and drank with my furry brothers in the back alleys.

I quit while I was even, then Batphoned Cat Woman.  We met for lattes at Cafe Vampirica, made small talk and smoked a Gitane.  Then she slipped me inside her purse, bought a single ticket to the late show at the Red Brick Theatre across the street, and smuggled me in.  I sat on her lap while we watched The 39 Steps from the balcony.  Her hands were warm and she rubbed my tummy.  In no time at all I was purring like a V12 on the autobahn.

However, nothing is as it seems with that beguiling seductress, and soon she was pressing me for details of the “Wayne family fortune”.  When I played coy and merely meowed in reply, she grew perturbed, and hissed at me.  I gave her knee a hot bite, and we yowled at each other until the usher booted us out of the theatre.  Outside in the alley, she lifted my tail and gave me a sound spanking.  I stole a quick kiss, pawed her tights once, and skedaddled with a snarl.  Her laughter followed me for blocks.  Outwitted again - that woman knows how to play me like a stringed instrument.

It was half-past-two when I slogged back to the mansion.  The cat door was locked (Alfred - of course).  I slipped into the basement thru the drainage tunnel, fluffed myself up, and curled up on the still-warm hood of the Batmobile.  My Batphone buzzed.  It was a text, from Cat Woman.  “Next week, my Kitteh?  Purr Purr.”  I texted back, “Same Bat Place, same Bat Time.”

That woman: Impossible, impetuous, bewitching, unknowable.  In a word: Purrfect.  She always was the one for me.

I slept.

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