It has been a while, hasn't it? Now that politics has appeared to step aside and there is no longer any debate to how this country is going to be run (my cold, dead hands by the way), I feel less pressured to write something starkly political (you could see my last few posts were headed that way). How've you been? It's good to be back.
One of the things I've prided myself on is my ability to adapt. It wasn't many years ago that in family conversations my father's favorite thing to point out was my uneven balance between book smarts and street smarts, and my brother would be my opposite. I was a book kid. That's the way it is. Since then, I've found a considerably more even balance between the two, often preferring to learn the lesson that life teaches you instead of the one that book offers.
I feel that learning something everyday is what keep your life from seeming too short. That if everyday you learn something, maybe it won't feel like your life is passing without some milestone to mark where you've been. Weekends are often devoid of these little markers.
Today, I learned a lesson I wouldn't soon forget.
The girl who cut my hair today, her name is Molly, but for the sake of anonymity, let's call her "Polly".
Polly seems a nice girl, simply too shy (maybe too green) to have been in the hair styling industry for very long. Mol-er-Polly wouldn't even call my name to let me know I was next. She would just timidly glance over until I got the hint (thank god I'm not dating her, it wouldn't have ended well). As I sat down in the chair, I started to piece things together.
Generally speaking, I'm sensitive about my hair. My wife would tell you that I'm too sensitive about it, but it's my hair goddammit. Polly slowly got her life together enough to put the reverse cape over me and began to ask me what I was looking for. I tell her the same thing I would tell every other stylist who has cut my hair.
"I like it really short on the sides and back, like a number 1. I don't like a long fade, higher up and tighter, so I don't look like a walking black mushroom. I like the top a little longer, not quite this long."
"Oh, I think I know what you mean."
Time out. Like those 3 episodes where Zach Morris in Saved By the Bell had randomly earned the ability to freeze time. Time the fuck out. It's at this moment that I should have protested and demanded that another woman be given to me for my hair styling satisfaction, but I thought that perhaps I was being sensitive. People work in a different manner, and maybe she doesn't exude confidence in the way I would want my ideal stylist to comfort me, but that's no reason to condemn her as a clipper carrying invalid.
She immediately takes out an under-charged electric razor and begins going to work with a clipper much too long for this particular request. Again, I can't criticize. I don't know how to cut hair, and I can't say I've gone to school for it. I would not tell a construction worker how to operate a crane. I would not tell Picasso how best to lop his ear off, unless he asked my opinion.
The electric razor's motor struggled against gravity as the battery's charge quickly dwindled it's the last of it's ability to masticate my hair. On one occasion, the razor actually stopped on a pass through my "thick salad". Unfazed by this, or perhaps concentrating on the most efficient means of ruining my day, Polly simply strangled the razor until it agreed to comply for the duration of its torture.
Suddenly, she was done. Except that the hair on the sides of my head were still 2 inches too long from what I had described. Again, I held my peace, comforting myself with thoughts of deserted islands where perhaps I would not be judged by my hair cut due to a lack of peers. "She's probably just going to do this in layers, I thought, to make sure the my head doesn't end up misshapen."
She armed herself with shears. I assumed at this point she was leaving the razor to charge somewhere. I was also dead wrong with this assumption. She grabbed a bale of my hair and measured. Before I knew it, she had cut a spot in the middle of my head down to about an inch long. I accepted this consequence as a mis-communication. Perhaps I had been unclear about what I had meant about "a little longer on the top", where I assumed that she read "I like it around 2 or 3 inches up there" like every other stylist I've encountered in my life, perhaps she understood "a little longer than what should be on the sides".
Except that it wasn't at this point.
After about 5 minutes of unsteady cutting, I looked like Larry from the Three Stooges, except that I still had hair on top, magnifying the brilliance of this escapade. I closed my eyes, and pretended to sleep, in the hopes that she would go away and select another more interesting prey. Suddenly, my hair is being washed, and we're back in the chair.
"You have this swirly deal at the front of your hair. My fiance has it, too. He just kind of let's it do what it does."
My eyes slowly scanned the swirly at the front of my head. And then allowed focus out. And in horror I realized that she had given me a "Faux-hawk" because that's what "her fiance does with his hair." I looked directly in to Polly's eyes and forgave her for this transgression. "I'm not the type of person who wears a faux-hawk. I'll bet I've got 80 pounds on your fiance, and a face to match. Can you cut the sides shorter and tighten the fade? Also, can we even it out on top?"
By this time, her opulant mood has dropped. She really had thought that she'd discovered this new place for me to be. This perfect world where everyone is like her fiancee. Or maybe it was the only haircut she could do. Regardless, I spent the next 20 minutes coaching her out of her faux-hawk and chiseling a permanent scowl on my face to last the rest of the day. After I'd done the best I could with the tools I was given, I paid and left. Vowing to ask if she still worked there the next time I was in for a hair cut, and running the opposite direction if she was.
Two lessons that I learned today, actually.
1) No woman ever touches you like your hairstylist: Her palm flat on your head, your elbow firmly seated in her crotch.
And infinitely more importantly,
2) Never let a stylist cut your hair if she can compare your hair to her significant other's.
22 November 2008
31 August 2008
A Sense of Closure
One of my favorite things about all forms of media is the amount of attachment we're capable of making to them. Since the beginning of print, we have been connecting themselves with characters in books. Since the beginning of music, we have been losing themselves in the melodies. And since the advent of film, we have been experiencing the moments as our own.
Gaming itself seems to have followed that same course, with today's experiences now rivaling the experiences found at the cinema, except now more encompassing.
As a Star Trek fan, or a trekker if you need a name for it, the connection to the characters always goes beyond the standard two hours you might be allotted in a movie. If you assume that a season of episodes is 24 42-minute episodes long, and you count TNG, DS9 and Voyager's 7 season per series totals, that's roughly 353 hours of time spent "with" the universe.
Science fiction and fantasy are the most obvious forms of "escapism" in media, both of which seem to be predominant genres in gaming.
Since I was so close to finishing season 7 of DS9, it really got me thinking about the end of the Metal Gear Solid series. Each game of the series stands alone as what could arguably called the best game of its year, or even of its generation. However, when you put them all together, you might have a commentary. A story.
The story could be about the developer. It could be about the state of the industry. But I see it differently. It's about me. Or you. The gamer.
The first game was a revelation. A change in gaming, things that we'd never experience before in scope and story telling. The second, a disappointment to most, was something vastly new and different from the first, though the core of game play remained the same. The third changed the game a little bit, but it was a return the original character and the game took place in the past. The fourth concluded the series and left a question for me to answer: now that what I know and love is gone, isn't it time for me to step aside?
Gaming itself seems to have followed that same course, with today's experiences now rivaling the experiences found at the cinema, except now more encompassing.
As a Star Trek fan, or a trekker if you need a name for it, the connection to the characters always goes beyond the standard two hours you might be allotted in a movie. If you assume that a season of episodes is 24 42-minute episodes long, and you count TNG, DS9 and Voyager's 7 season per series totals, that's roughly 353 hours of time spent "with" the universe.
Science fiction and fantasy are the most obvious forms of "escapism" in media, both of which seem to be predominant genres in gaming.
Since I was so close to finishing season 7 of DS9, it really got me thinking about the end of the Metal Gear Solid series. Each game of the series stands alone as what could arguably called the best game of its year, or even of its generation. However, when you put them all together, you might have a commentary. A story.
The story could be about the developer. It could be about the state of the industry. But I see it differently. It's about me. Or you. The gamer.
The first game was a revelation. A change in gaming, things that we'd never experience before in scope and story telling. The second, a disappointment to most, was something vastly new and different from the first, though the core of game play remained the same. The third changed the game a little bit, but it was a return the original character and the game took place in the past. The fourth concluded the series and left a question for me to answer: now that what I know and love is gone, isn't it time for me to step aside?
27 August 2008
Life Explained
I think I was about 12 when I first asked myself the question "Am I really alive? Or am I dreaming that I'm alive?"
The question extends to a million other places, but the idea remains the same. What if reality isn't as it's explained to you? What if there are no other people, and you've just invented them all as it became convenient? What if the you you think you know is really just the you you want you to know?
The question is asked more elegantly in the movie "The Matrix" and had one of us decided to put pen to paper sooner, it would have made no difference at all. The question had been asked for ages, and touched on in just about all forms of media since the beginning of time. None of that matters, because it's such a fucking epiphany when you finally ask yourself. It's the definition of your existence at stake.
Do I exist?
It's a funny question, I think. In three words, you own the potential to completely negate any responsibility or consequence that your experiences have taught you. In three words, you have the potential to shed any frustration or misfortune in your existence.
Of course, the question was answered by a philosopher a few hundred years ago. Descartes wrote "Corgito, ergo sum", which if your Latin has fallen by the wayside, means simply "I think, therefore I am." Which, as Wikipedia is kind enough to regurgitate, was originally "Je pense donc je suis". That's french for the same, for the unintiated.
Yet, even if you go beyond him thousands of years, you'll find that Plato had explained conciousness in the simple "Knowledge of knowledge" idea, or you might find Aristotle's awareness text. That's fine, you can stay on that Wiki page.
Either way, the idea of explained existence has gone back much longer than your own suspected existence, and it's a fantastic reasoning (going back to "I think, therefore I am"), one I couldn't hope to disprove. Just the same, we'll turn the tables a second. What if you didn't exist?
What if everything you do is something I created? Or what if everything I do is something you've created? Or what if there is an omnipotent one among us who pulls all the strings either consciously or sub-consciously?
I suppose that could continue in any way. You could carry that line of questioning to the end of existence and never have any definite answer.
Which I suppose brings you to God.
To be completely honest with you, I never know where I sit on this subject. Some days, I just know, and in others I'm left in doubt. My favorite argument towards to existence of God is always simple. It's the Ockham's Razor of all explanations; "God did this." And yet, at the other end of the spectrum is Atheism. A clear case can be made here, too.
In that same, easy reasoning that God does exist, you have Chaos. The Big Bang theory. Evolution. Why do you exist? Because you do.
Anyone who tells you how improbable it is that you exist, that every facet of this life works within its tiny specification to make the world work the way it does, that every being has a blueprint and it can only be because God said it should be has no logical case.
You are here. The mosquitos are here. We have thunderstorms and the moon. Is it possible that we all exist because that's just the way it happened? If I had 2 eyes in the back of my head and a tail because that's the evolutionary course our species has taken would we be able to ask the same question. On the other end of Ockham's Razor is this, you exist because you do, not because a being decreed that you do.
The interesting thing about design is us. Humans. Regardless of how you view things, we are the key to this question. Are we the only species that debates the question of religion? Or existence? Maybe not.
But we seem to be the only species that has no place. We are unaccounted for. Without us, there is a cycle. Existence, then not. That's for every species, and not of equilibrium, because there is no permanent equilibrium, but a battle and an existence. Evolution, there it is again. But the difference between us and the other creatures is that we sacrifice to evolve. We destroy. And we question.
We live much longer than we once did, but is that not evolution? Even though the means are artificial, the idea that we are capable of building computers and machines or houses or roads or vehicles, is this not evolution? Applied Darwinism? A good portion of people would say that we've taken that out of the equation. That people now no longer succumb to allergies. That retardation or genetic disorder is no longer the determined end of the line. But what of reproduction?
It seems that we live in a world with two systems, science and religion. It seems that evolution and religion could co-exist. And yet, in most minds, they cannot. No one ever explains why, only that "God said it was" or "science demands it". Though there are few who could combine the ideals.
And then it might not matter at all.
Do I exist?
The question extends to a million other places, but the idea remains the same. What if reality isn't as it's explained to you? What if there are no other people, and you've just invented them all as it became convenient? What if the you you think you know is really just the you you want you to know?
The question is asked more elegantly in the movie "The Matrix" and had one of us decided to put pen to paper sooner, it would have made no difference at all. The question had been asked for ages, and touched on in just about all forms of media since the beginning of time. None of that matters, because it's such a fucking epiphany when you finally ask yourself. It's the definition of your existence at stake.
Do I exist?
It's a funny question, I think. In three words, you own the potential to completely negate any responsibility or consequence that your experiences have taught you. In three words, you have the potential to shed any frustration or misfortune in your existence.
Of course, the question was answered by a philosopher a few hundred years ago. Descartes wrote "Corgito, ergo sum", which if your Latin has fallen by the wayside, means simply "I think, therefore I am." Which, as Wikipedia is kind enough to regurgitate, was originally "Je pense donc je suis". That's french for the same, for the unintiated.
Yet, even if you go beyond him thousands of years, you'll find that Plato had explained conciousness in the simple "Knowledge of knowledge" idea, or you might find Aristotle's awareness text. That's fine, you can stay on that Wiki page.
Either way, the idea of explained existence has gone back much longer than your own suspected existence, and it's a fantastic reasoning (going back to "I think, therefore I am"), one I couldn't hope to disprove. Just the same, we'll turn the tables a second. What if you didn't exist?
What if everything you do is something I created? Or what if everything I do is something you've created? Or what if there is an omnipotent one among us who pulls all the strings either consciously or sub-consciously?
I suppose that could continue in any way. You could carry that line of questioning to the end of existence and never have any definite answer.
Which I suppose brings you to God.
To be completely honest with you, I never know where I sit on this subject. Some days, I just know, and in others I'm left in doubt. My favorite argument towards to existence of God is always simple. It's the Ockham's Razor of all explanations; "God did this." And yet, at the other end of the spectrum is Atheism. A clear case can be made here, too.
In that same, easy reasoning that God does exist, you have Chaos. The Big Bang theory. Evolution. Why do you exist? Because you do.
Anyone who tells you how improbable it is that you exist, that every facet of this life works within its tiny specification to make the world work the way it does, that every being has a blueprint and it can only be because God said it should be has no logical case.
You are here. The mosquitos are here. We have thunderstorms and the moon. Is it possible that we all exist because that's just the way it happened? If I had 2 eyes in the back of my head and a tail because that's the evolutionary course our species has taken would we be able to ask the same question. On the other end of Ockham's Razor is this, you exist because you do, not because a being decreed that you do.
The interesting thing about design is us. Humans. Regardless of how you view things, we are the key to this question. Are we the only species that debates the question of religion? Or existence? Maybe not.
But we seem to be the only species that has no place. We are unaccounted for. Without us, there is a cycle. Existence, then not. That's for every species, and not of equilibrium, because there is no permanent equilibrium, but a battle and an existence. Evolution, there it is again. But the difference between us and the other creatures is that we sacrifice to evolve. We destroy. And we question.
We live much longer than we once did, but is that not evolution? Even though the means are artificial, the idea that we are capable of building computers and machines or houses or roads or vehicles, is this not evolution? Applied Darwinism? A good portion of people would say that we've taken that out of the equation. That people now no longer succumb to allergies. That retardation or genetic disorder is no longer the determined end of the line. But what of reproduction?
It seems that we live in a world with two systems, science and religion. It seems that evolution and religion could co-exist. And yet, in most minds, they cannot. No one ever explains why, only that "God said it was" or "science demands it". Though there are few who could combine the ideals.
And then it might not matter at all.
Do I exist?
24 August 2008
Fondly Remembered
One thing that every child born before 1989 looked forward to was getting stuff with the cereal box.
I think it may have been related to the difference in cool shit that we had, compared to the cool shit kids today have. It just doesn't seem to have the same appeal anymore, and today I just can't see why it ever did. Maybe I'm too old. Maybe it's because that shit they pack in with your cereal is pretty fucking disgusting.
Thankfully, they've moved the prizes outside of the bag.
Still, in my Frosted Flakes, among pictures of Harrison Ford and Shia LeBouf (whom I have an intolerance for, thought I don't know why), were the details of a value-add to the container of sugar-encrusted early-morning-fuel. The prize? An "Adventure Spoon", featuring a pillar (the handle) which prominently displays "Indiana Jones" in the trademark swoop, color-coded to indicate the hue your "Adventure Spoon" glows when the switch is turned on and the botton is actuated. In a separate bag was the actual spoon attachment, which was clear plastic and affixable to the top of the "pillar".
When I was about 6, I'd have gone apeshit with this thing. Of course, we used to eat cereal with forks to save the milk. My brother would confirm that.
But now, it seems the fervor behind cereal prizes is gone. It might be due to the fact that kids can bring DVD players, PSPs and Nintendo DSs to the table. Something that would have gotten me a knife stuck in my hand.
But at this point, now at 25, I look at this little plastic blessing and think "that's fucking disgusting." You wouldn't eat food with a toy soldier would you? (Jeremy can skip answering that question). At least plastic untensils give you the impression of sterility.
At least it lights up, I guess.
I think it may have been related to the difference in cool shit that we had, compared to the cool shit kids today have. It just doesn't seem to have the same appeal anymore, and today I just can't see why it ever did. Maybe I'm too old. Maybe it's because that shit they pack in with your cereal is pretty fucking disgusting.
Thankfully, they've moved the prizes outside of the bag.
Still, in my Frosted Flakes, among pictures of Harrison Ford and Shia LeBouf (whom I have an intolerance for, thought I don't know why), were the details of a value-add to the container of sugar-encrusted early-morning-fuel. The prize? An "Adventure Spoon", featuring a pillar (the handle) which prominently displays "Indiana Jones" in the trademark swoop, color-coded to indicate the hue your "Adventure Spoon" glows when the switch is turned on and the botton is actuated. In a separate bag was the actual spoon attachment, which was clear plastic and affixable to the top of the "pillar".
When I was about 6, I'd have gone apeshit with this thing. Of course, we used to eat cereal with forks to save the milk. My brother would confirm that.
But now, it seems the fervor behind cereal prizes is gone. It might be due to the fact that kids can bring DVD players, PSPs and Nintendo DSs to the table. Something that would have gotten me a knife stuck in my hand.
But at this point, now at 25, I look at this little plastic blessing and think "that's fucking disgusting." You wouldn't eat food with a toy soldier would you? (Jeremy can skip answering that question). At least plastic untensils give you the impression of sterility.
At least it lights up, I guess.
21 August 2008
Guess What?
Just a quick update, since I'm feeling way too lazy to do any actual writing, I received my permit to carry from the Dakota County Sheriff's Department.
At first, I was worried that my application had been denied, as it has been only a short week since I applied. But I was wrong. I'm glad to be wrong for once.
At first, I was worried that my application had been denied, as it has been only a short week since I applied. But I was wrong. I'm glad to be wrong for once.
12 August 2008
Redemption
A couple of months ago, I finally made a stop in to the Sprint store, with the intention of getting my cell phone replaced. Not even hell would stop me.
Nor a clerk who clearly didn't want to be there.
After a bit of *ahem* cooperation exercises, I finally got the rep to agree that my phone was defective, that it was indeed ridiculous that I should have to send the phone out to LGs support office for up to a month to have them tell me that the phone is not defective (even though it shipped with faulty firmware), and that from a service standpoint, a customer who can't depend on his phone being on when he wants it turned on will probably not remain a customer much longer than his contract requires him to.
So they replaced my phone, and I have a couple of observations. Number 1?
That's what I'm fucking talking about. This phone works, and it works well. Not so much now that it works well, but that it's actually a good phone. The keyboard is more responsive and accurate, the phone is actually faster in some operations, the phone is now 3G compatible, and it's already excellent battery life is even more excellent. Almost Bill and Ted excellent. Seriously, I recharge it every 4th day, when the battery meter drops 1 bar.
Ok, so I'm not popular enough to get phone calls all the time, but I do text a lot.
I also don't use bluetooth, but it's never been too important to me. I know that I turn it off, this probably helps with the battery life.
I won't write another full review, since they addressed the number 1 concern I had with it, it shutting off all the time, and while it bothers the hell out of me that I had to argue constantly for 6 months to get a replacement, I'm glad I finally did.
Seriously, if you have this phone, and you're having problems, go get that shit replaced.
Nor a clerk who clearly didn't want to be there.
After a bit of *ahem* cooperation exercises, I finally got the rep to agree that my phone was defective, that it was indeed ridiculous that I should have to send the phone out to LGs support office for up to a month to have them tell me that the phone is not defective (even though it shipped with faulty firmware), and that from a service standpoint, a customer who can't depend on his phone being on when he wants it turned on will probably not remain a customer much longer than his contract requires him to.
So they replaced my phone, and I have a couple of observations. Number 1?
That's what I'm fucking talking about. This phone works, and it works well. Not so much now that it works well, but that it's actually a good phone. The keyboard is more responsive and accurate, the phone is actually faster in some operations, the phone is now 3G compatible, and it's already excellent battery life is even more excellent. Almost Bill and Ted excellent. Seriously, I recharge it every 4th day, when the battery meter drops 1 bar.
Ok, so I'm not popular enough to get phone calls all the time, but I do text a lot.
I also don't use bluetooth, but it's never been too important to me. I know that I turn it off, this probably helps with the battery life.
I won't write another full review, since they addressed the number 1 concern I had with it, it shutting off all the time, and while it bothers the hell out of me that I had to argue constantly for 6 months to get a replacement, I'm glad I finally did.
Seriously, if you have this phone, and you're having problems, go get that shit replaced.
11 August 2008
Concealed for Your Comfort
This last Saturday, I finally finished what I'd been meaning to do for about 4 years now. I'm not sure what had delayed me to this point, but there it is, and here I am. I haven't actually finished the process, but the difficult portion is over, and I'm ready to finish it up. Oh, I forgot to mention. I finally finished my Concealed Carry Weapons training.
It seems that everyone in the wife's family is particularly against the idea, but experiences are the things that tend to shape our ideals. Even my father, who was particularly against the idea of concealed carry, seems to be warming to the idea these days.
It seems that whenever I talk to people about CCW, there are polarized opinions about whether or not people can be trusted to carry weapons, but I always wonder why every one is so extreme about those beliefs. Not to say I don't carry the extreme belief on the one side, but where do the experiences come from that say I can't be trusted to carry a weapon for my own, or your defense?
From an political standpoint, my views aren't terribly extreme. I do believe in the second amendment as an important factor of our lives as Americans, as both a constant reminder that our current "freedoms" were earned, and that the "price of freedom is eternal vigilance." But don't call me a vigilante. My intention is not to enforce the law.
Regardless of how the rest of the debate goes, I think it's important to note that no one is ever convinced of the other's viewpoint, so let's not waste our time. But I do feel it's my obligation and my duty to protect myself and my loved ones if I am able to. And while I'm a large person, and some might call me intimidating, that does nothing when an assailant has a gun or a knife.
The truth is, I don't look forward to shooting anyone (and to suggest otherwise is ridiculous), but I do look forward to not being shot. I'm not seeking conflict, but I am seeking my right to exist in peace. If you see me in public, you won't see my weapon, that's all there is to it.
The most curious logic question I have is the longest running NRA question. Where does preventing law abiding citizens from owning and bearing firearms fix the issue of crime? If handguns are banned, you wouldn't see me, or most any other permit holder (with the exception of activists) carrying them, but I'm pretty sure that won't stop a violent repeat felon.
Owning a weapon legally is sometimes a chore. Maintaining the weapon is the most important part of ownership, but the actual cost of the weapon is prohibitive. My brother convinced me to purchase a Sig (I chose the P226 9mm because of the cost of ammunition), which was expensive, but thanks to circumstance, was less expensive than it should have been. I remember a time when buying a handgun on the black market cost roughly 200 dollars. Of course, that might have been used in a murder.
Ammunition is definitely what gets you down. It's entirely possible to expend 60 dollars in ammunition in an hour (I know, I've done it), and that's just the cheap stuff. There a fantastic brand of ammo out there called "Extreme Shock", which is frangible ammunition. For 20 rounds, it's $35 dollars, needless to say, I wouldn't recommend it for target shooting.
I did have to apologize to my brother, my next weapon is a Glock 31. He hates Glocks with a passion, but my mind is more open to the possibility now that I've felt it in my hand. The angles are a little awkward, but as I've learned during the shooting qualification, less important is whether or not you can hit the target at 75 feet, but more important is whether or not you can reacquire the target at 15.
I have to apologize to the guy I met at the training, his name is Ron. Ron was nice enough to stick around to see whether or not I would qualify with my weapon, and to see how well I shoot. Truth is, I was a little nervous going in to the whole thing, and since I hadn't been to the range in a couple of months, I was a little worried about what distances we were talking about (one of the courses I researched had a 15 round 45 foot requirement).
I relaxed a bit when they said 10 rounds at 15 feet, since that doesn't seem very far. I relaxed even further when I saw the target in relationship to myself. My first round was a double action pull, it leaned down and left, to the middle of the 8 ring, I was disappointed so I reacquired and bulleyed. At this point, I just let the other 8 rounds go. The whole experience was about 2 seconds in total, and the rest of the 8 shots all 9 ringed. It was all muscle memory, I wasn't really aiming at all. Sorry, Ron, if you got the impression that I see that well. It was like cheating.
Of course, I wasn't the one who brought the laser to the party. Or 4 guns to choose from.
I already bought a concealed carry holster, and an open carry holster.
My concealed carry holster is a Nick Matthew's special, here a picture:
He's a great guy, it's a fantastic build, great quality, and the best prices in the business. www.nm-holsters.com
You'll notice that the Sig P266R is actually a full sized handgun. I have trouble with compacts because I have such big hands. It's heavy, but it's an incredible weapon. And you really won't be able to see it.
My other holster (the open carry), is the large and unwieldy Blackhawk Serpa CQC. It's an awesome holster, and nearly impossible to break. I won't be using it often, but in the winter time, under a large coat, you won't want to fumble with your layers of clothing.
At the end of the day, if you shoot someone, you're going to jail. I think a lot of people lose sight of this. You'll have to prove you were justified, which is more difficult than say... casting doubt that you are guilty. You've admitted to the event. But it's better than being a victim.
I'll make you a deal though; if I see you in trouble, and you want me to put the gun away and not help you, I will.
It seems that everyone in the wife's family is particularly against the idea, but experiences are the things that tend to shape our ideals. Even my father, who was particularly against the idea of concealed carry, seems to be warming to the idea these days.
It seems that whenever I talk to people about CCW, there are polarized opinions about whether or not people can be trusted to carry weapons, but I always wonder why every one is so extreme about those beliefs. Not to say I don't carry the extreme belief on the one side, but where do the experiences come from that say I can't be trusted to carry a weapon for my own, or your defense?
From an political standpoint, my views aren't terribly extreme. I do believe in the second amendment as an important factor of our lives as Americans, as both a constant reminder that our current "freedoms" were earned, and that the "price of freedom is eternal vigilance." But don't call me a vigilante. My intention is not to enforce the law.
Regardless of how the rest of the debate goes, I think it's important to note that no one is ever convinced of the other's viewpoint, so let's not waste our time. But I do feel it's my obligation and my duty to protect myself and my loved ones if I am able to. And while I'm a large person, and some might call me intimidating, that does nothing when an assailant has a gun or a knife.
The truth is, I don't look forward to shooting anyone (and to suggest otherwise is ridiculous), but I do look forward to not being shot. I'm not seeking conflict, but I am seeking my right to exist in peace. If you see me in public, you won't see my weapon, that's all there is to it.
The most curious logic question I have is the longest running NRA question. Where does preventing law abiding citizens from owning and bearing firearms fix the issue of crime? If handguns are banned, you wouldn't see me, or most any other permit holder (with the exception of activists) carrying them, but I'm pretty sure that won't stop a violent repeat felon.
Owning a weapon legally is sometimes a chore. Maintaining the weapon is the most important part of ownership, but the actual cost of the weapon is prohibitive. My brother convinced me to purchase a Sig (I chose the P226 9mm because of the cost of ammunition), which was expensive, but thanks to circumstance, was less expensive than it should have been. I remember a time when buying a handgun on the black market cost roughly 200 dollars. Of course, that might have been used in a murder.
Ammunition is definitely what gets you down. It's entirely possible to expend 60 dollars in ammunition in an hour (I know, I've done it), and that's just the cheap stuff. There a fantastic brand of ammo out there called "Extreme Shock", which is frangible ammunition. For 20 rounds, it's $35 dollars, needless to say, I wouldn't recommend it for target shooting.
I did have to apologize to my brother, my next weapon is a Glock 31. He hates Glocks with a passion, but my mind is more open to the possibility now that I've felt it in my hand. The angles are a little awkward, but as I've learned during the shooting qualification, less important is whether or not you can hit the target at 75 feet, but more important is whether or not you can reacquire the target at 15.
I have to apologize to the guy I met at the training, his name is Ron. Ron was nice enough to stick around to see whether or not I would qualify with my weapon, and to see how well I shoot. Truth is, I was a little nervous going in to the whole thing, and since I hadn't been to the range in a couple of months, I was a little worried about what distances we were talking about (one of the courses I researched had a 15 round 45 foot requirement).
I relaxed a bit when they said 10 rounds at 15 feet, since that doesn't seem very far. I relaxed even further when I saw the target in relationship to myself. My first round was a double action pull, it leaned down and left, to the middle of the 8 ring, I was disappointed so I reacquired and bulleyed. At this point, I just let the other 8 rounds go. The whole experience was about 2 seconds in total, and the rest of the 8 shots all 9 ringed. It was all muscle memory, I wasn't really aiming at all. Sorry, Ron, if you got the impression that I see that well. It was like cheating.
Of course, I wasn't the one who brought the laser to the party. Or 4 guns to choose from.
I already bought a concealed carry holster, and an open carry holster.
My concealed carry holster is a Nick Matthew's special, here a picture:
He's a great guy, it's a fantastic build, great quality, and the best prices in the business. www.nm-holsters.comYou'll notice that the Sig P266R is actually a full sized handgun. I have trouble with compacts because I have such big hands. It's heavy, but it's an incredible weapon. And you really won't be able to see it.
My other holster (the open carry), is the large and unwieldy Blackhawk Serpa CQC. It's an awesome holster, and nearly impossible to break. I won't be using it often, but in the winter time, under a large coat, you won't want to fumble with your layers of clothing.
At the end of the day, if you shoot someone, you're going to jail. I think a lot of people lose sight of this. You'll have to prove you were justified, which is more difficult than say... casting doubt that you are guilty. You've admitted to the event. But it's better than being a victim.
I'll make you a deal though; if I see you in trouble, and you want me to put the gun away and not help you, I will.
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