yeah, that’s about my feeling about it too.

Look, I know LEO’s and Military want/need firearms that RUN. I get that. I also get that the ergonomics and quality of these pieces is (supposedly) exceptional. And that’s fine! if you rely, every minute of every day, on your duty piece to protect your life, it should be easy to carry, easy to use, easy to secure and remove from securement when needed. And the glocks fit that to a tee, and are pretty damned reliable.

But IMHO they have no soul.

Tam has firmly cemented her place in the halls of Curmudgeonii, with this post, which made me choke a bit on my coffee as I was breaking the new Illinois ordinance of surfing while driving.

She’s dead on. Now, I’m not a huge “Black rifle” fan- though I admit to wanting an AR clone just because they look like so damned much fun to shoot, and I’m all about fun shooting. I may even be able to do something about that after the Oglet has been through school.

On the other hand I’m a BIG fan of firearms with soul. The kind of soul you find in an original condition but used Springer 03. Or a nice broomie mauser. You look at the scars and dents and scratches and you cast your mind back to the moment the scar was received; the rifle speaks to you, and if you understand the language, it’s a compelling story.

My old marlin lever action had been through hell when I bought it, it had been used as the prop rod for a motor home for over twelve years and I ressurrected it in a new caliber. It now has a little scratch- barely noticeable- on the left side of the receiver where I leaned it against the bumper of the truck and it slipped, while I was getting my deer into the Exploder this season. I am a little annoyed at myself, but I will always look at that scratch as a reminder of the first whitetail I got with an actual modern cartridge rifle.

When i was hunting in Zambia I shot an enormous Kudu with a Winnie 70 in 30-06. This rifle had been patched and cobbled over the years, and was still in good running form despite a glued and screwed stock and a welded-on front scope mount (the screws long since stripped) I asked our host Mike Fisher about it, and he smiled and said, with his wonderful british accent, “I dropped it when a hippo charged me and he stepped on it” I have to tell you, if that were my rifle, I wouldn’t ever have let another human being touch it forever.

I have a double now. I look forward to hunting dangerous game with it. I will do my level best to take care of it but I secretly eagerly anticipate it’s first war wounds, because of the story they’ll tell me, and maybe some descendant of mine years hence.

In honor of Tam’s post, I’m gonna do some channeling here and see if I can explore the history of the progression of weapons.

“Them Glocks is ugly. I like my 1911” Sergeant Dick Ludlow, 1963
“1911? My Webley has been good enough all this time, and I expect nothing to change”
Leftenant Neville Altbridge-Stevens, 1914
“Webley? that double action crap will never catch on. Give me my 1849 anyday.” Buford “Tex” Wainwright, 1871
“Revolver? you dumbasses, what you gonna do when it’s empty, throw it at them? Any shooter worth his salt can load and fire a cap and ball in seconds!” Jack ‘Mad Jack” Blostridge, grand Banks privateer, date unknown
“Cap and ball? What do you do when you run out of caps? the flint never runs out!” Haans Bjorkensvald, Swedish imperial fleet, date uncertain
“Pistol? you fools! have you ever had to reload a CUTLASS?” Bill McGreevy, Royal navy.
“Sword? what kind of moron are you? Do you want to let the enemy get that close? I’ll stick with my 12’ pike, thankyouverymuch” Grenkind of Avila, sometime in 1719
“Pike? think crossbow, you fool. You can kill the enemy dead from a hundred yards!” Dennis the pudgy, fall 804.
“Crossbow? that overmechanized piece of shit? Give me a nice bow anyday.” Pete Archer, 412
“Bow? I can get more flint to the target with this atlatl than you can ever do with a bow small enough for you to carry.” Bonga the one-thumbed, date lost in the mist of time.
“Atlatl? pussy. If you can’t develop the muscles and the skill to toss a spear stay home with the bitches” Grob the annoying, several dozens of decades prior to Bonga the One-Thumbed.
“Spear? A stick was good enough for my father and his father, and it’ll be good enough for you. No son of mine is gonna strap a sharp flint to the end of a stick and call that ‘Sportsmanship'” name unknown, from French cave paintings
“Stick? why this club has served me for generations. Why change now?” Thag of the Hairy Bastards of Glubglub (now known as ethiopia)

And finally:

“Club. Og not like club. Club wood, wood break, wood rot, wood burn. Og like rock. Rock hard, not break, rock bash skull fast. Club for poo-heads” Og, back when it all began.