OK, OK, hold it DOWN already...
You'll please excuse my tardy check-in. Past three weeks have been unpleasant by way of that virulent virus that's been making the rounds. Spent a lot of time asleep, or lurking, but lacking energy for my usual number of fizzy-brain postings.
Finally threw off the virus-no more hacking out wads-o-crud, at least-but it left behind a skanky associate in the form of an infection in one of my sinuses. It feels a lot like having a golf-ball "C"-clamped against my forehead directly over my right eye. Or maybe someone's just trying to pry open a crack in my skull with a dull crowbar. This headache's equal to, but differently shaped than, the epic migraines I get every other month that I wouldn't wish on a gun-grabber. Migraines, however, I can GET RID OF in an hour or two. The Socialist Sinus Staph Colony is not so easily displaced. It just throbs, and gives an evil laugh at the piles of aspirin I throw at it.
24 hours a day.
Seven. Days. Running.
Exhausted, me. Feel poisoned, resemble Death warmed over. I thought the VIRUS was bad...
Off to the doctor Monday. Anti-biotics time.
'Nuff moaning. April 3rd's good. Oughta be healthier by then, presuming I don't keel over dead. If it get's bumped sooner, I'll get crotchety about it and show up at the shoot in a tatty bathrobe leaving a trail of used tissues. NOT the kind of picture I want to present as an upstanding HighRider.
the most difficult for new shooters are the large caliber handguns... Hand_Rifle_Guy, I'm looking at you... (stay away from him if he comes to the shoot; he has a, shall we say 'fascination' with monster caliber handguns... not that there's anything wrong with that.)
You... You there! The skinny-bored one, yes! I heard that! Come here this instant, I've a sneeze with your name on it! And the Lightspeed Nonchalant Innocent-whistling-exit Stroll shall not save you from the teeth of
The Monster.
No fair warning 'em. Ya get 'em all INTIMIDATED, like, and I won't get a chance to smear great big grins on people's faces by sharing my toys. Fear-mongering does not become us here on The High Road. Now REALLY...
Mr. _Wombat, your essay comparing/contrasting the shooting qualities of the CZ-50 vz. the Astra 600 is LATE. However, I will give you the opportunity to combine that assignment with the PA-63/E.G. Makarov essay For an Overall Blow-back Service Auto Review, but if you don't turn this assignment in, you won't receive a passing grade and I'll have to schedule a meeting with your parents about your performance, young man.
Hmmm, what to bring, what to brinnng...Hokay.
We'll have The Monster, of course, and it's room-mate the Shansei .45 Broomhandle Mauser.
The 629-4 S&W Mountain Gun.
The Automag III.
The '43-vintage Astra 600 I'm going to try to out-shoot Sven's CZ-75 with.
The S.A.S.S. Hand Rifle in .308 Winchester.
A .308 bolt-gun of one form or another. The MAS-36 or the Mexican Mannlicher, most likely.
Since everyone's all twitterpated about .50's, I'll grab mine. 'Taint one o' them thar battleship-sized Desert Eagles, though. It's the A-m-3's bigger fatter brother, the Automag V. It's a bit cantankerous and reliability-challenged, but that's probably because it's the Lightest Production .50 A.E Pistol Ever Produced. so it likes to get a bit frisky when you shoot it. It's ported, though, so it's not all that rough, but do make sure you hang on when you run it.
I think I shall also bring out the thumpenist' handgun I own, the S.A.S.S. Hand Rifle in .358 Winchester. We'll see if I can convince myself to fire it more'n twice.
I'll probably throw in a couple-three other bonus guns also, just fer yucks. If anyone wants a chance to run anything particular you mighta missed last time, (Like the Glock 32, f'rinstance.) just say something. If I got it, you can shoot it so long as we can track down ammo.
Glugh. I feel like crap. Time to re-up the pills.