Neanderpundit

Roberta speaks about Guy Lautard , serendipitously, at the same time I am about to take delivery of “The J.M. Pyne sories & other selected writings” by Lucian Cary.

Anyone who doesn’t have a clue who Pyne was, well, could be excused, because it was not a real person. The real person was H.M. Pope.

Harry Pope made what at the time were arguably the best rifle barrels of the day. The Pope muzzle/breech loading system was legendary- and Harry himself, along with his contemporary Franklin Mann used his barrels to outshoot just about everyone on planet earth. Speaking of Mann, my copy of “the bullet’s flight from powder to target” is dog eared and worn, and I wish I had a new one.

Anyway, I just today got my copy of “The J.M. Pyne Stories” and I’ll be absent blogging until I’ve gotten it read, and reread, and digested. And read again.

I have read some of these stories- Cary wrote for Gun Digest, etc. and i enjoyed his work there- but the idea of having all his stuff collected- I’m tickled.

Yeah, i fully expect to read this three times before I write another word.

Amuse yourself until I return.

Except You, Dick. You amuse Kelly.

Update: Wow, this rocks. To a civillian, this would be boring shit- but to a geek, a machinist, or a machinist wannabe- this is incredible. Riveting, even. Certainly a better read than I expected- and now, having read it, i’m bummed. Because not one more Lucian Cary story will ever be written.

Witness:

“A”: Where I was
“B”: Where the hildebeest was.

Less than a mile.

Sheeee-at.

Who’d have thunk a little inslata caprese would be capable of such horrific gas. I’m actually having to go outside to fart because of the huge volume of gas.

Have to have one of these just before surgery on friday. I cannot contain the glee at the thought of having the doctor fist deep in my knee, while I rip off fart after violently retch-inducing fart. Sound asleep and oblivious.