A Luddite's Delight

Avoiding the 21st Century at every opportunity is a good idea.* Yesterday another reason why occurred to me as I restocked the indoor wood bin. 

My Leaders have not figured out a way to tax the split oak and maple. That's pleasant  to think about while  lounging around the 80-degree cabin in a tee shirt, idly glancing out the window once in a while to confirm the massive failure of global warming.

*The 20th wasn't much either, but it nearly redeemed itself with  John M. Browning, Kim Novak, and the Twinkie.

But It's Ugly

Twenty-mumble years of use have taken their toll of what little beauty that Smith 59 had in the first place, and I catch myself wondering if it's a good candidate for a bake-on.  

I used the Brownell  brand last summer to titivate  a 1911 built years ago  on an Essex frame, GI top and internals. It looks pretty good, not really like Parkerizing, but close. 

A sorta-Parkerized 59? Why not? I can't imagine the gene pool ever polluted enough to create beings who consider these things collectible. 

  

BubbaSmithing

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The SW59 came my way in the latter days of the Carter Administration. It was a police turn-in. Smart police.

The SW factory munchkins somehow missed the concept that a trigger should release the sear prior to making solid contact with the frame.  I relieved the frame and made it go click in the shop -- every time. Yowza.  A bench strip  and the hard felt wheels took care of the trigger-mech burrs and silenced the symphony of screeches and whines prior to the click. (I'm not sure this was wise. Maybe Smith and Wesson decided there should be an audible warning that this gun was going to go off any second now.) 

All was well until sometime during the recent  Christmas trip. Getting ready to put it away last evening I noticed a full magazine would not drop without a substantial assist. Nor would either clip go back in without a big hand-bruising  whack. Look real close.  See the clip scratches. See the mysterious bump on the forward edge of the well. No, it wasn't dropped nor transported in the tool box with the pipe wrenches. I suspect SW used an alloy seeded with a secret enzyme which grows burrs. 

While the files and emery cloth  were handy  I beveled  the rest of the magazine well. Very smooth now, and I feel just like P.O. Ackley.   

  

Well, Hell, I Try to be a Patriot

We patriotically obeyed Our Leaders in the $147 per-barrel days. We pumped up the tires, drove less, drove slower. With assists from the likes of Bernie Madoff it worked, and we're burning less gas. Very patriotic, and Our Leaders thank us with:

"Okay you benighted bastards. Since you won't drive far enough and fast enough to pay enough gas tax to keep our brothers-in-law the road builders happy we're gonna raise your fuel taxes."

Way out Left -- in Upper Kalifornia -- Oregon Leaders have a better idea. Make you buy GPS-equipped cars and trucks so they can track your travels and charge you by the mile. They absolutely promise this will not become a way for Big Brother to watch your every move, i.e., "No indeed. We would never let anyone but the fuel tax guys see your itinerary. Absolutely no chance we would let the cops and the other bureaucrats peek at it. I mean, +rilly+ +rilly+ rilly+!"

And your Social Security number can't be used for identification. And the income tax will never exceed 1 per cent. And your Grandpa voted for FDR because he kept us out of war.