Trying to separate you from your last dollar is not an ambition exclusive to government, and ToddG bench strips one of the private-enterprise schemes
The gist is that a $700+ handgun (the Sig Classic) ought to work fine right out of the shipping carton, without need for a $200 "action enhancement package" by the same company that sold it to you in the first place. But you should read the whole thing.
---
The comments include a bit about a personal tic, ramp polishing. I routinely do it to virtually every semi I acquire. Sometimes it's unnecessary, but sometimes it improves feed reliability. It isn't something you need to pay a gunsmith for if you're adept enough to strip the pistol and self-disciplined enough to live by the Two Great Rules.
(1) Remove metal by the depth of only one atom and (2) changing any angle by more than one-fiftieth of one degree is an official screwup.
The goal is to smooth the cartridge/weapon bearing surfaces, not to second-guess the engineer who designed it. We're not fixing a design flaw. We're rectifying manufacturing processes dictated by company accountants.
I use an appropriately sized dowel and crocus cloth or a felt wheel chucked in a Dremel and loaded with jewler's rouge. (Dremel grinding wheels and coarse abrasives should be locked away until the job is done.)
H/T Tam
Sep 5, 2011
Quote of the Year, 1866; The Preacher's Gun
(or: What the Hell? Firepower is firepower.)
Chaplain David White was with a motley detachment of 34 soldiers and civilians trying to make it from Fort Reno to Fort Phil Kearny on July 20, 1866. Red Cloud of the Oglalla contested the passage at Crazy Woman Creek on the Bozeman Trail.
It was a running fight until the outnumbered white guys (with three women and two children) finally dug in on a knoll, still pestered by Sioux fire.
The Reverend Mr. White was slightly wounded -- more pissed off than hurt. He grabbed his pepperbox and charged down the hill with one Private Fuller. Gunfire ensued, then quieted. Fuller and the padre returned to the perimeter shouting they got "two of them devils."
Dee Brown reports:
"All seven charges in his pepperbox had gone off at once, killing one Indian and frightening the others into flight ."
.
Chaplain David White was with a motley detachment of 34 soldiers and civilians trying to make it from Fort Reno to Fort Phil Kearny on July 20, 1866. Red Cloud of the Oglalla contested the passage at Crazy Woman Creek on the Bozeman Trail.
It was a running fight until the outnumbered white guys (with three women and two children) finally dug in on a knoll, still pestered by Sioux fire.
The Reverend Mr. White was slightly wounded -- more pissed off than hurt. He grabbed his pepperbox and charged down the hill with one Private Fuller. Gunfire ensued, then quieted. Fuller and the padre returned to the perimeter shouting they got "two of them devils."
Dee Brown reports:
"All seven charges in his pepperbox had gone off at once, killing one Indian and frightening the others into flight ."
.
Sep 4, 2011
The village flea market
This is the last big weekend for fleecing tourists and the traditional time for a big flea market not far away..
I conferred with one of the flea dealers. We had a frank and cordial exchange of views about his table full of reloading stuff.
I have more gear than I need, but a fellow can always use components, can't he? Like about 750 Hornady and Sierra bullets, .223-.257-308 in a variety of weights and shapes. I fear I would have overpaid at $45 except for getting the 600 primers as langiappe.
Why, yes, now that you ask. That probably is a smug expression on my face.
I conferred with one of the flea dealers. We had a frank and cordial exchange of views about his table full of reloading stuff.
I have more gear than I need, but a fellow can always use components, can't he? Like about 750 Hornady and Sierra bullets, .223-.257-308 in a variety of weights and shapes. I fear I would have overpaid at $45 except for getting the 600 primers as langiappe.
Why, yes, now that you ask. That probably is a smug expression on my face.
Fashion note; why the man travels light
Brigid launched one of those memes -- What's in Your Wallet? or purse or whatever. Her interesting assortment is deadly with its Taurus and amusing with a Milk Bone and a pitch pipe. Her lab is trained to attack on B-flat and come to heel on C-sharp?
The comments are funny. (I bow most deeply to the only fellow who noted that he routinely carries bail money. Even if you never do the perp walk, you learn early in life that cash solves all kinds of problems; not plastic, not checks, just cold, hard Federal Reserve Cartoons.)
Still, the whole thing is depressing because she -- in a damned sexist fashion, if you ask me :) -- short shrifts ages of discrimination against the males of the species. We are forbidden to carry purses on pain of GLBT suspicions.
Yes, I know of the "man-purse" style. Screw it. A purse is a purse, and if John Wayne sported one even he would draw snickers.
It is impossible to tote even minimum daily essentials without spoiling the lines of our Wranglers. To wit:
Hang a pistol, spare ammo, and Leatherman on your belt. Pocket a knife, billfold, money clip, flashlight, keys, Zippo, notebook, binoculars, whistle, compass, and copy of the Constitution. Your jeans hang low enough to earn a chest bump any rappers' convention. Sitting down becomes impossible or at least a pain the ass.
A long time ago some kind designer tried to solve the problem with a "fanny pack." I have a couple, including one in camo, but I never wear them in civilization. And I bear a grudge against whatever fashion czar officially decreed them the certain Mark of the Dork.
Nice little backpack? C'mon. I ain't no matriculant at Miss Porter's Country Day School.
The comments are funny. (I bow most deeply to the only fellow who noted that he routinely carries bail money. Even if you never do the perp walk, you learn early in life that cash solves all kinds of problems; not plastic, not checks, just cold, hard Federal Reserve Cartoons.)
Still, the whole thing is depressing because she -- in a damned sexist fashion, if you ask me :) -- short shrifts ages of discrimination against the males of the species. We are forbidden to carry purses on pain of GLBT suspicions.
Yes, I know of the "man-purse" style. Screw it. A purse is a purse, and if John Wayne sported one even he would draw snickers.
It is impossible to tote even minimum daily essentials without spoiling the lines of our Wranglers. To wit:
Hang a pistol, spare ammo, and Leatherman on your belt. Pocket a knife, billfold, money clip, flashlight, keys, Zippo, notebook, binoculars, whistle, compass, and copy of the Constitution. Your jeans hang low enough to earn a chest bump any rappers' convention. Sitting down becomes impossible or at least a pain the ass.
A long time ago some kind designer tried to solve the problem with a "fanny pack." I have a couple, including one in camo, but I never wear them in civilization. And I bear a grudge against whatever fashion czar officially decreed them the certain Mark of the Dork.
Nice little backpack? C'mon. I ain't no matriculant at Miss Porter's Country Day School.
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