Neanderpundit

Back in godonlyknowswhen, Zastava started making Mausers. They made them for the military, but their commercial production was pretty good too. A powerful lot of these were sold by George Herter- he put barreled actions together and even sold whole guns, sold this rifle as a J9.

Somewhere in there even Brownells got into the action, selling receivers and whole guns, at a pretty good price.

Harry McGowen put his hands on some and barreled them in 30-06, and I have one of those. The stock was nasty but I fixed that, and the scope mounts were horrid but I got new ones from Talley (Best rings I ever bought or used) and the trigger was abominable so I got a Timney, and the scope I had was sort of awful so I bought a Nikon Monarch 3.

This is the completed rifle on firing day, awaiting only it’s Made in America Harris Bipod.

(Click to embiggenate)

Anyway, I had gotten it close using a laser boresighter, and at the range I put a big shit-n-c target downrange, sighted the barrel on the huge dot provided by the target, and adjusted the scope to match it.

The first short was high and away. I held the rifle in position and moved the crosshairs to the hole, and took the second shot. it only took two clicks to get it in from there, and I filled the magazine and shot five times. Here’s the target.

This is at about a hundred yards with the scope set to 2.5 power. yes, there are five holes in that group, and you could pretty easily cover them with a silver dollar. I am most pleased.

Now I need to get trigger time, and that means a bunch of snap caps so I can teach myself never to flinch, and a lot of ammo so I can make sure it goes downrange. This is the first time all the pieces have come together for this rifle- trigger, scope, mounts, stock. I will have to get used to the nice as the suck I had before was so permeating. If this all goes well I will rebarrel this rifle, still in 30-06, but with a crowbar, a barrel heavy enough to impose it’s will on the round. And then I will start shooting at things which are far away.

Despite all the inveigling of what the founding fathers meant, the bottomline is, this Nation is about freedom.

We can and do legislate morality all the time. Law is in and of itself a codifying of accepted morality. You can legislate morality, you just can’t often enforce it.

Freedom does NOT MEAN everyone gets whatever they want, even if you don’t think they’re hurting anyone, because you aren’t G-d and you are not a predictor of unintended consequences. And this applies equally to Muslims and the Westboro Baptists, gays and bible thumping Pentecostals, corporate polluters and gloebull warmening morons.

Liberalism (as it is defined now, also called progressivism) is the very worst kind of mental disorder and you cannot fix stupid, you can only prevent it from doing harm.

We are in the end game of a class war, and it is not between the wealthy and the poor, but between the ruling class and US. And we are pretty well the losers. We have a process in place to fix that, and it works, but it doesn’t work quick nor is it easy. The moment I am convinced that this process is no longer tenable you will be able to tell because of the sound of gunfire coming from my general direction.

There is nothing more valuable nor more important than friends and family. I hope today you can be with yours, and that you cherish and value them.

is one of those comfort food things for us-it’s not great Chinese food but it’s OK, and we like it because we can eat little samples of a lot of different things.
What it does to my head, though, is just odd.

Last night I dreamed I was at a dinner with our parent company, which is very Japanese. They had a Taiko group in prior to serving dinner, and they were magnificent- if you haven’t heard and seen Daiko being played, I highly recommend it.

Anyway, the players, after the performance, came down and circulated among the diners, then chose seats and sat down beside them. One, the O-Daiko player, Michio, came and sat across from me, and we hit it of just fine. My Japanese is limited to thank you, good morning, where is the bathroom, and do you have any catfood, but his American was great (The Japanese are no longer teaching their kids to speak English but American, apparently) so we did well.

he took a shine to me, I think in the way hot girls surround theirselves with fat girls, I guess (I have at least four friends who have body fat in the 3% range, fitness nuts). Anyway, we hit it off right away, I was fascinated by his work and he mine, and we went downtown Chicago with a group on one of the company’s buses and wandered around the city for a while.

Michio and I walked along the river- he still wrapped up in his traditional garb, me typically the man in black. A mugger approached us and demanded our wallets. He was armed with some kind of a kitchen knife.

Michio reached in his happi and instead of a wallet pulled out his bachi, which are hardwood dowels about an inch in diameter at the small end and tapering up to about double that.

If you’ve never seen taiko, you have to understand, this borders on being a martial art. it is not only fascinating to watch and hear, but it is the devil itself to play. See a Daiko player with his shirt off (They often wear only loincloths in performance) and you see a guy carved out of walnut. I know a lot of pretty fit people and I never saw anyone with the muscle tone of a daiko player.

Anyway, Michio started beating on this guy like he was a drum and in just a few seconds the mugger was on his knees curled up in a fetal position covering his head with his hands. I could see that Michio was holding back, because the full force of his blows would have killed the moron outright. I picked a napkin off the ground, and picked up the kitchen knife where the mugger had dropped it and threw it over the guardrail into the river. Michio stopped and the mugger lie on the ground, keening.

“Will that kill him, do you think?” asked Michio.
“No, but this probably will” I grabbed the mugger by the scruff of his greasy denim jacket and his belt, and dwarf tossed him over the rail. The Chicago river, at this point, is not the kind of place you’d want to be trying to avoid drowning in.

Woke with a headache and now I’m trying to convince myself to either make some coffee or go get some because running the tractor with a splitting headache is not optimal.