Six-Gun Colorado, Damn Good Jazz, Hog Balls, and Other Political Notes

-- Democrats are in considerable trouble in Colorado, and reporters are stumbling over themselves with explanations. You can, however, wear out a pair of reading glasses looking for any MSM mention of Governor Hickenlooper's assault on the Second Amendment.  He had the backing of Senator Udall who wants to disarm citizens in all 50 states. Both are in electoral trouble, though my crystal ball tells me the Hick will squeak it out. The Denver Moms (and Dads) Scared Shitless of Guns and Most Everything Else, Too are laying low. They recognize that Colorado is still far more John Wayne than John Denver, and those old boys out along the Dolores River will vote.


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--Here in Iowa, Michelle Obama is stumping around, trying to pull Bruce Braley's balls out of the fire. The race to replace Tom Harkin is very close, but  RCP has Joni Ernst looking like a winner. I've liked this campaign. Ernst skewered Braley for his stupid and condescending remark about Sen. Chuck Grassley being a mere Iowa farmer who never practiced law.

She became the Hog-Ball Lady,  "I'm Joni Ernst and I grew up castrating hogs on an Iowa farm."  Braley has not yet recovered, maybe because he's trying to prove he can get elected with the most incompetent handlers in the business.

Item:  For months the Braley campaign massed-mailed slick cards featuring a huge picture of Ernst, who happens to be a very attractive woman. The text was so subdued that people tended to think it was a pretty good piece for her.

Item: That mailing ended eventually, replaced by similar cards with photos of a paunchy congressman quickly going to jowls.  If elections are beauty contests, Braley conceded even before the swim-suit competition.

Item: Then Braley or his wife threatened to sue a neighbor whose chicken walked across their yard.

Item: Then Michelle spent most of a speech  intro identifying him as "Bill  Bruce Bailey." Which reminded me of how much I loved Ella Fitzgerald. Somebody needs to remake her classic into "Bruce Braley Won't You Please Go Home." It would scan just as well. (You should click the link; it will do your heart good.)

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--We lost a very good man a few weeks ago. Libertarian senate candidate Doug Butzier flew his PA 46 into the ground trying to land in Dubuque. He was polling the Iowa LP's usual 1 or 2 per cent, but was earning props as level-headed candidate  who was being pretty effective in promulgating the liberty message.

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You will be shocked, shocked, I tell you, to learn that before too long I will be saying some nice things about a Democrat who will turn up on the TMR Iowa Caucus list. Jim Webb.

The Commander Reporting for Duty, Sir.

It's one of the reasons for a quiet blog lately.*

So, is it done?

Of course not. A 1911 is never done until the builder/owner has exhausted(a)  his entire reserves of patience and (b) the last Federal Reserve Cartoon he owns.

The trigger is a dream, and, even though her uniform is slightly mussed, she is otherwise fit to dissuade your rampaging thug from the notion that well-ripened Americans are easy pickings.

I like that old boy despite his questionable habit  of keeping too much cash in the house and letting the neighborhood know about it.

Here at Camp Jiggleview, of which I am Commandant, the miscreants would find  no more than the jug where I toss change and dollar bills. The rest of the on-hand wealth consists mostly of some new wool socks against the coming polar vortex and said Commandant's new Coltish Commanderoid.

She is about 80 per cent complete, behind schedule due to a devil of a time swapping around hammers, sears, and disconnectors.  The Windom loophole Saturday turned up a large handful of 1911 internals, including the ignition parts that finally gave me the letoff  I wanted. She's still unfired but feeds hard ball fine and will go bang.  (If you can't get out in the country right away you can chamber a primed empty and squeeze her off, even though that is probably illegal here in Smugleye-on-Lake. But what the Hell.  Molon labe.)

There's a new beaver tail grip safety on the bench, but it defied my "drop-in" hopes, and I've had all of the "minor fitting" I care for at the moment. It will be added in due course, probably as I get her ready for for the final finish.

(Geekout: AMT aluminum frame; Caspian slide, straight GI sights. The hammer is a Model 80 piece, lacking a half-cock hook. There's a ledge in its place to hold half-cock, but a trigger pull drops it.  I can live with that, but I'd rather -- and will -- have the JMB original.  The grips are Pachmayr wrappers, and yes I know how utterly trailer-park that makes me.  Don't care. I've always liked the way they feel, and in the immortal words of Charles Parlier, "This is muh working' pistol, not muh lookin' pistol." )

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*There are others keeping my fingers busy with chores other than typing, but here's no plan to retire the TMR until authoritarian forces are entirely routed, and I don't expect that to happen for a very long time, months anyway, perhaps even a few years.