First annual ...

Travis McGunGeek award to Dr. Strangegun for his fine photo essay on detail stripping the 1911 frame.  If you own one or plan to, it's a must-read.

Dr. S is carbinizing the JMB classic too, but with a complete new Buck Rogers top in a, errr,  subcaliber.

Trigger-happy

To a guy brought up on the elegance of Mausers and 1903s, the Stevens folks got carried away with moving parts on their 110e trigger. Five-count-em-five adjusting screws in the trigger group, enough to make it imprudent to wing it based on experience.* 

So you go to the internet and discover what the Stevens design fellows had in mind. Ten minutes later you're smiling.  The letoff isn't crisp, but it's better than pretty good, and I won't have that venerable "crappy trigger" excuse for missing. 

You also learn the sear and associated  parts are made of sintered metal, and the hardening is no deeper than Obamian economic understanding. So put the hones away.  Right now.

I think I'm going to like this one enough to float the barrel and pretty it up a bit, maybe try a new magic formula I thought up for making birch look something  like walnut. Stay tuned.

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*"Experience"  -- that accumulation of knowledge permitting me to credibly explain how I screwed up this time.   

Roger Miller, economist

The beginning of wisdom:

"Two hours of pushin' broom gets an eight-by-twelve four-bit room."

Four hours gets you a better one. 

The notion takes root: five years of pushin' broom and brain and you're in a three-bedroom split level,  worth more than you owe.  Further application leads to a magnificent view from your paid-for veranda. And you own a safe because you need one.

The Fix is Sin

Some Washington  mentalities -- even at the congressional level -- are slowly grasping that economic stimulus as Obama, Reid, &Co. understand it is a socialist wish list. 

So these so-called moderates and conservatives are reverting to a simpler theme -- the  warm snuggery of the rain-tight roof and elegant window treatments, i.e. "We must fix housing." 

Now,  it is quite true that my house is broken. To a rational soul that means that if I stopped all this damned writing and got out the carpentry tools it would be fixed.

My Leaders  think it means my Fairy Godmother (probably about a GS16) should wave her wand and make it worth more money. Then I have more "equity." Then I can borrow money against my "equity" and buy stuff.  Then Starbucks won't have to peddle value meals. Then we're all rich again, at least until I've spent all my equity again. 

"Keep people in their homes."  Think about that possessive pronoun.

Supposing I had seen the place where I live, coveted it, and set out to make it "mine." Penniless and witless, I  borrowed the down payment and accepted a ruinous mortgage for the rest.  I get to move into the place, hang my pictures, and lay down a commode-hugging rug -- any color I want. 

But no tortured logic, no further waterboarding of the English language, makes that house "mine."

What I actually have is the monthly right to to send the bank money so I may continue to live in the bank's house.  I don't own anything.  I suppose that's Ron Paul's fault.