Strapping on a 9mm pistol, getting drunk, then crashing your snowmobile may not be the best idea a guy ever had. If the cops and reporters have it right, that's what a fellow did last week. He dumped his sled in an "open field" down near Storm Lake, badly injuring his back-seat lady. Officers charged him with OWI, and:
"In addition, authorities discovered ------ had a concealed 9 millimeter handgun on his person. Authorities say (he) had a valid permit to carry the gun, but when a person is intoxicated that permit is NOT valid, as well as when operating a snowmobile. An additional charge of carrying a concealed weapon was filed...".
I have no problem with the carrying-while-puked charge. Our two-year-old shall-issue law permits carry while sipping in bars and restaurants, but the second you hit .08 on the joy meter your CCW becomes worthless. That strikes me as reasonable. I never found great fault with one of the old NRA "10 rules" which said firearms and booze don't mix.
The carrying while snowmobiling or ATVing prohibition is part of DNR law {Iowa Code § 321G.13(2)} and is more debatable. A permit holder would seem to be no more danger to man or beast on a sled than at the wheel of a rust-bucket Ford Ranger with giant wheels, 4x4, and an aftermarket Zoomenkrash 460 V-8.
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I haven't kept close track of the gun bills in the Iowa legislature this session. For that you go to Stranded in Iowa. From what I have been following, it appears that there won't be much, if any, gun-law change this session. Our pols are fully occupied bickering about education reform (stop giggling), property tax relief (dammit, I told you to stop), and what to do with our modest budget surplus. About the only consensus of that last point is that we shouldn't give it to His Ineptness even though he badly needs it to buy votes from union ship welders in tidewater Virginia.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 25, 2013
Whinny whinny
I woke up with the darndest urge to buck somebody off and crap in the middle of the street. In broad daylight, mind you.
it took a minute to clear my mind and remember that I supped on Swedish meatballs from IKEA.
Poor Trigger.
I conclude that the Swedes sequestered a bunch of krona, forcing the layoff of all their royal meat inspectors.
.
it took a minute to clear my mind and remember that I supped on Swedish meatballs from IKEA.
Poor Trigger.
|
I conclude that the Swedes sequestered a bunch of krona, forcing the layoff of all their royal meat inspectors.
.
Feb 22, 2013
Gun Buyback Logic
A nice quick take from my friend JAGS down in Texas.
Participating in a gun buy back because you believe that the criminals have too many guns is like having yourself castrated because you believe that the neighbors have too many kids.
.
Participating in a gun buy back because you believe that the criminals have too many guns is like having yourself castrated because you believe that the neighbors have too many kids.
.
Feb 21, 2013
Sexy me
Some childhood values linger into the mature years. A three-year-old with a cut finger will tour the neighborhood showing off his bandage.
Me? I have a romantic limp. Your place or mine, Baby?
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It's been 20 days since the power dive on ice, and the charlie horse is still giving me an excuse to carry the Celtic-American assault stick occasionally.
There's no disabling weakness, just pain varying from mild to sit your butt down right now. It seems to be getting better. At least sporadically. Yesterday was pretty comfortable and ibuprofen-free. This morning four tabs seemed like a wonderful idea. Carrying in that arm load of oak last evening was possibly a poor health-care decision.
Travis McGee nailed it. When you hurt yourself, you turn inward, listening hard for all the little signals about the status of the precious and irreplaceable me. So you don't do anything else properly, including your sworn duty.
For instance, I've given Shotgun Joe a complete pass on his directive that you must meet a lethal threat by carrying a double barrel shotgun to the veranda and firing randomly into the air. That's purdey stupid, and I'll be glad when I'm fit enough to comment on it.
Me? I have a romantic limp. Your place or mine, Baby?
---
It's been 20 days since the power dive on ice, and the charlie horse is still giving me an excuse to carry the Celtic-American assault stick occasionally.
There's no disabling weakness, just pain varying from mild to sit your butt down right now. It seems to be getting better. At least sporadically. Yesterday was pretty comfortable and ibuprofen-free. This morning four tabs seemed like a wonderful idea. Carrying in that arm load of oak last evening was possibly a poor health-care decision.
Travis McGee nailed it. When you hurt yourself, you turn inward, listening hard for all the little signals about the status of the precious and irreplaceable me. So you don't do anything else properly, including your sworn duty.
For instance, I've given Shotgun Joe a complete pass on his directive that you must meet a lethal threat by carrying a double barrel shotgun to the veranda and firing randomly into the air. That's purdey stupid, and I'll be glad when I'm fit enough to comment on it.
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