Book Pimpin'

Awesome.

I got AD's book a little while ago, actually, and wound up reading it fairly quickly. I suppose that it's partly due to the fact that I'm a fairly quick reader, but mainly because of it's a helluva read. It's reads quite a bit like his blog, 'cept that I gotta say that the comments section doesn't seem to work too well (Har!). Seriously though, for being pretty much a completely different subject than my experiences in the Corps, much like his blog, there's quite a few similarities if you know where and how to look.


As an added bonus, Mom really liked it, as well. She spent a short while as a volunteer when we lived in Nowhere, AZ, and she said that it brought back some memories, good and bad and in between, about her time slingin' needles and strappin' bodies. She would've returned it quicker, but...


... Gramma got a hold of the book, and while she reads alot, she doesn't read as quickly as either Mom or I. Gramma was not really a fan, mainly due to the language. Guess she's used to a certain standard of intimidation that'll make a combat vet (and everyone else, really) mind their p's and q's around the teensy and lovable Gramma (as long as you're using nothing more vulgar than an occasional, 'dangit'). Said personae doesn't translate too well to book intimidation, I guess. Heck, that shi-er, stuff just makes it more flavorful to my reading palate!


Can't win 'em all...

Things That Make You Go 'Hmmmm....'

Two things wrong with this pic... can you tell what they are?

So, got a call the other day, whilest I was fast asleep.


It was from Baby Sis, and My Love picked up the phone.


Know how you can be kinda-sorta asleep, aware enough to register familiar noises but not really be disturbed by them? Yeah, well this nap was not to be. I could tell almost immediately that My Love was going into comfort-mode, and that Baby Sis was crying. A few seconds more was enough to tell me that it wasn't due to a recent break-up or anything, but due to a 'death in the family'.


Shit.


When I was told that it was that Lazy Bum had died, my thoughts were roughly;


1) Thank God.

2) Er, that didn't sound right...

3)... thank God that it was just one of the cats.

4) Guess I can't really claim to be all that much of a cat person now, huh.


As nap time was pretty much kaput, I threw on some shoes and moseyed on over to Mom's house. Mom was kind of upset, completely understandable due to the fact that she's a stereotypical cat-lady and that this was one of 'Dad's cats'. Lazy Bum was everybodys cat, really, largely due to the fact that he was so dang lazy anyone could pick him up and pet him. Heck, he wouldn't even get outta the way of the over-amorous toy-poodle that Mom dotes on. But he and Dad used to cuddle on the couch, so...


So Mom and I hung out a bit, enough to establish that she'd be ok, more or less. We talked a bit about Dad, all of her 'beasties- those that have died and those that are still roaming around- and that she wanted to bury the cat in the back yard, mebbe plant a tree in a bit. I volunteered to dig the hole with Mom's 2ft shovel and reminisced about good times with an e-tool. Eventually got a little bit of a chuckle out of Mom, telling her about the days in the Corps when a young PFC Murphy had to complete his e-tool qualification, so that was good.


Meh, the whole time that Mom and I were talking, her mother was just sitting on the couch, with an odd expression on her face. See, to her, cats were for killing mice in the barn, and not really much else after that. She was trying to understand, you could see it on her face, but it just wasn't quite working. Guess Gramma definitely fits into the dog-person type.


So, here's to you, Lazy Bum, may the mousies run slow, the milk pour just right, and all the poodles find someone else to bother. Say 'Lo to Dad for me...

Just Passing A Little Word...

link.


Think of the kittys.

This Friday, February 20, 2300 CST, Mark is doing another Preparedness Show, focusing on food storage preparations.


Interesting... There's somewhere else besides Mah Belleh to store food...?


Unfortunately, I already know I will be eh, 'at' work, so I'll have to catch this one after the fact. Still looking forward to it, though.

Note To Self: Follow Instructions

When calling in to Mark's show, the recorded message instructs the caller to press '1' to notify the host that he has a caller on-hold. It might've continued by reciting that the host would be notified anyways, but I took that moment to take a sip of my drink... and decided to just listen on my phone for a bit. Riiiiight about the time when my thought was solidifying about the how to of spreading knowledge and the previous glassy-eyed looks I'd received from some family when it came to talks of ditty-boppin' to San Antonio, or the Valle-


"...a caller from the 512 area code, hello? Hello?"

Nuts. Am I on?


All in all, good show, from all. Plenty o' food for thought when it comes to planning, from starting small, not getting carried away, 'insurance', thumb-drive info, generic posted info, and the like. Good stuff.

Fire In The... Hole?

Way back in the day, probably similar nowadays, there were a number of ways to identify, off-base, if a guy was a devil-pup. An involuntary, momentary brain-lock upon being addressed in Marine-jargon was most likely a hold-over to recruit days, or those from the School of Infantry, when every Marine was in trouble at one point or another, would be a good sign. Likewise, a subtle shifting to the position of parade rest when addressed by a senior Marine was another. These signals were abandoned as soon as possible by the new Marine, so you couldn't always rely on those to ID who was in SOI or a recent grad.


Another, really easy way to spot an SOI libo Marine, besides the presence of the war-bag ((BOOOT!!!)), would of course be the moto-Ts. Motivational T-shirts were usually decorated with at least 17.5 symbols of the Marine Corps and/or nekkid ladies, death, big ta-tas, weapons, frisky females, other service disparagement, and finally & for a bit of variety, nekkid ladies.


Truly, high fashion it was.


Inevitably, moto-Ts were destined to fall out of favor with most Marines on libo, either due to the 'appropriate civilian attire' requirements that couldn't be wriggled out of, or just plain better fashion sense, as the Marine grew up a bit. This wasn't to imply that the Marine stopped getting moto Ts; oh no, we did, we just stopped wearing them so often on libo. Heh, one somewhat memorable pre-liberty soliloquy that I remember from one of my First Sergeants was the speech, shortly after threatening the well-being of any Marine that found himself in the local pokey at the end of liberty, was the part where he spoke of proper liberty attire. He always said something along the lines of, '... closed toed footwear, no exceptions. Trousers, and if it has loops, a belt, no exceptions. A collared shirt, no exceptions. NO motivational T-shirts, no exceptions. Now, I can't control what you wear out and about in town, but when you leave my area and exit my gate, you will most definitely not be wearing any t-shirt that says something along the lines of,

Eat the

and fuck the

I never actually saw any moto T that had this (or would that be a DE-motivational T?) on it, but then again every time the First Sergeant said it, I know there were a few Marines fantasizing about making one up, just for him...


One important exception to the moto-T rule was, of course, the company T. Every so often, usually during or after a float (deployment on ship), school, combat deployment, or as desired, a unit would come out with a T-shirt. Said shirt would have as its primary color camo green and would usually have a small unit logo on the front and a somewhat larger decoration regarding the units activities on the back. The T would often find its way into the rotation of wear under the cammies, where few would see it. The absence of nekkidness on the T would even make it ok for the odd boots and utes PT, depending on the command, of course.


I have found, now nearly 4 years (!?!) after getting out, that most of my old moto-Ts are getting back into my wear-rotation. Might be a shocker to hear, but I don't get out to the bars nearly as often (or at all, really) as I did before, so the Ts are nearly always worn during my puttering about the house, landscaping, during my 'runs', and whatnot. Some are so frayed and 'holy' that puttering about is about all they're fit for.


Moto-Ts have also become something of the 'easy gift' for My Love. One day she ran into this website, and it quickly became a go-to place for gifts, for me. It's a website devoted to not only the moto-T (and they have come a long way), but bumper-stickers, coins, flags, patches, rank items, and just about everything you could slap an Eagle, Globe, and Anchor on. As I am in danger of entering into 'crusty old bastard' Marine status, even the stuff that was in fashion, then not, and now again is good to go, for me. They send us a nice catalogue every month or so, and apparently the models they use are actual Marines, their wives, girlfriends, and kiddos.


Methinks the inclusion of the ladies cuts down quite a bit on the 'nekkidness' of some of the old stuff that I remember. Sure it's still out there, just not so much from this company.


Anyways, I got the most recent catalogue the other day, and pretty much as soon as I opened it, I saw something... interesting.


Now, I really hope that this is something for the ladies...


I really hope that this example is not in fact 'man-panties' that are now standard issue...


And mebbe it's just me, but 'fire in the hole' is not something that should be used on a pair of panties, man or otherwise. Seeing the phrase, 'fire in the hole' just makes me think that if a Marine were to take 'the li'l General' out for a little 'close order drill' with a 'training buddy' that had 'fire in the hole' on their panties, well, said Marine might have to later 'get his bore punched'.


Any Marine can tell you that 'getting ones bore punched' is never, ever, ever a good thing, probably because that big beefy Doc remembers every crack you ever made about his beloved Navy...


One slightly chuckle-worthy item aside, they are otherwise good-to-go and officially Murphy-approved, as dubious as a distinction as that is...

Stamps going up... again.

Hey, that reminds me, I have to take some letters (delivered to my house & for the previous owner) to the Post Office. Hell, it's only been almost three years, and his name and that of my wife do share a few letters, so mebbe this'll be the year they figure it out. While I do that, I'll have to try to keep from thinking about all of my mail that's probably still being delivered to random addresses in California and Texas. On a related note, time to pull my credit history again, and check to make sure that no one opened up a credit account for me from one of those addys, as well. After all o' this, I do have that one mortgage bill that I need to switch over to direct withdrawl.


Thanks, USPS!

Good Idears

Courtesy of Ahab, I ran across this story, about plans in the works in the event things down south go, uh, south... or move north.


Call me crazy, but shouldn't there be somebody, somewhere, who's main job is to think of the crazy, maybe, improbable, possible, prolly never happen but what the hell might as well type situations in the world... and make a rough plan for them? Or is that just me? (I'm ready for your attack, Canada!)


Speaking of preparedness, and how it's nearly always better to have some thoughts before things get froggy, I got an email from Mark about his show. Sounds like he's going to have some interesting folks on, this Friday.

Highlights

Highlights, from this past Saturday, at the Bracken Range.

• Take a wild shot in the dark as to who managed to leave his directions to the range at home... give ya a hint, look at my blog title...
  

• Well, at least I still know that my 'navigation by guesstimation' still works, more-or-less.

• I still called, though.
  

• The first thing that we did when we were paid up at the range office, guns on the table, range hot was... grab our cameras.

• Perhaps the best benefit of shooting a Glock with a 56.43 lb trigger pull is when you shoot that Kimber 'Big Sexy' by merely looking lustily at it. It was like buttah...

• Shooting that CZ-52 made me want to do my Tim Allen man-laugh.
  

• I wasn't entirely sure that I was actually shooting those .22s, but there were cute little holes appearing in the paper, so I was happy.

• I really should get me some .22s...

• And a CZ-52.

• And a Kimber 'Big Sexy'.

• I think a laser might be good for a few training applications, but I'm afraid that (for me) too much of it would wind up with me looking like one of my mom's cats, just chasing it round and round...

• It's probably not just me, but I like to see all kindsa folks at the range. White, black, old-timers, whipper-snappers, church youth, cops, good ole boys, military, men, wimmen, and... was that family sikh? Cool.
  

• Even better than the folks are the guns and being able to, for the most part, randomly walk the range and strike up conversations about folks' different collections.
  

• And the random discussion(s) of how guns are (and are not, besides the obvious) like boobies.

• Mosin-Nagant. [insert more Tim Allen here].

• That last one didn't sound quite right...

• Few might know this, but the Mosin is actually a dolt-action rifle. Yeah, that's when, after the first round, you turn your head to give your best cheerio-droolin' grin to the rest of the group, get behind the rifle again, squeeeeeze that trigger, and then when nothing happens sheepishly rack the bolt, load another round, and fire.

• I have it on pretty good authority that I wasn't the only one to do this...

• Evil. Black. Rifles. Mmmmmmm....
  

• Enthusiastic trigger work does get a visit from range personnel in the form of a warning to slow down the shots... for us.

• I think the rapid fire that didn't raise any eyebrows from the range folks was the concealed class, perhaps? Regardless, looked pretty well populated, good stuff.
  

• I'm not an advocate of spray-n'-pray for the hell of it, but it is nice to be able to practice multiple shots. I got the feel it was more of a 'hunters rifle range' though (slow fire, bench rest, etc), so I understand - their range, their rules.

• When that guy came over to eyeball our EBRs, ask what caliber they were, prices, and why we would want them in the first place, considering that "they were for killing folks", I had to bite my tongue from replying, 'you say that like it's a bad thing...'

• I don't think he would have understood my answer.

• Whoever responded with the more pc (and overall better) answer of hunting, training, and fun, kudos to you.

• Speaking of which, time really flies when you're having fun, huh.
  

Final head count for this Saturday's festivities right ovah hyaw.



Looking forward to it and hope to see y'all there!

With My Luck...

"Ok Murphy, as the new guy on the R&D team, you've been designated as the man to *cough* test out the prototype bio-mech combat suit for the range trials."


"Sweet! Is this the one that makes the wearer almost super-human?"


"Suuuure..."


"What kind of Camo does it have?"


*snicker* "Huh? Camo?"


"You know, is it like a ghillie suit, twigs & foliage n' stuff?


"Not so much foliage as much as... fur..."

*snort*