Before he went all weird, he was just Cat, living in a Wild World.
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Oppression By Bureaucracy
It’s not often I get an email that creates both sadness and almost-ungovernable rage, but Reader Bruce sent me this:
Last week, on one of the saddest days of my life, I went to a local police station and handed over my three rifles for destruction by the “Commissioner of Police”.
They were nothing special: a B/A Savage 320D in .22 Hornet; an Anschutz .22RF 1451 Sporter (with custom fibreglass stock); a Savage Model 12 .223 Varmint heavy barrel (in a custom fibreglass stock). But they were MINE! to me, they represented something: that society had accepted me as a responsible human being. I obsessively hand loaded for the Hornet and .223, seeking the best performance each was capable of.
So why did I do the unthinkable?
Firstly, my wife and I “downsized”. We moved from a suburban 4 x 2 on a huge lot into a 3 x 2 apartment close to the river. And then came the first cruncher. By law, my firearms had to be kept in an approved gun safe, bolted into brick or concrete on two surfaces. And the only place for that in our new abode was in the lock-up roller door garage. Uh-uh … the law says it has to “be under the main roof” … and it isn’t. My safe was “grandfathered” anyway. Had I bought another firearm or had one of mine rebarrelled, I would have been compelled to buy a new “approved” and vastly more expensive safe. So I had nowhere to store my guns (or ammo, for that matter).
Secondly, I have been a competitive target shooter for 51 years, from air pistol to pistol to full-bore to rimfire. I am nationally qualified as a Range Officer. I was, until I let it lapse, a qualified Commonwealth Shooting Coach. I have been able to use my rifles competitively and for hunting, quite legally. Not so now. If I want to use them competitively, I have to get “another” licence category for them, and compete a regulated number of times per year. Once they are so classified, I can no longer use them for hunting or vermin control. The reason? Our the Minister for Police declared that target firearms are likely to have lightened triggers and are not “safe” to use off a range.
My dilemma. Give up plinking or bunny busting or fox shooting, or give up competition. OK, so I’ll just use them for the former and forego competition. Problem. I can only shoot on “approved” properties. My friend has a farm. I can shoot there, provided he registers me every year on an internet portal with the police department. If his neighbour wants me to shoot a few foxes on his property, I am not allowed to unless he also registers me electronically. Oh, and calibres are limited by the size of the property you have permission to shoot on.
And so I handed them in. I have owned a firearm (or more than one) since 1967. I’m pleased to say I’ve never done anything dangerous or even vaguely illegal with any of them. And to now be told that I can’t have them unless I jump through bureaucratic hoops hurts. Deeply.
My point? DON’T GIVE YOURS UP! Fight the bastards until you can fight no longer.
Note that gun ownership can be ended simply by incremental “reasonable” gun control regulation — e.g. guns must be stored in a safe —–> safes must be encased in brick walls (an almost impossible condition to meet for most people, which is the point of such bastardy).
Bruce, my friend: if you ever make it to Texas, I’ll organize a Schutzenfest for you with some of my fellow Texans, at a place where we can bang away all day without fear or apprehension. As for guns… let’s just say you’d be overwhelmed by choice.
Somebody To Love [sic]
Longtime Reader John S. sends me this delightful compilation. I feel that I may have posted a couple of the links before, but can one have enough of young Sydney? I think not. So go ahead and enjoy.
Thursday Landscape
Rincon, Chile (2004)
Quote Of The Day
Via these guys (and Reader JC):
“The only honest instruction left for voters is brutal and simple: treat most polls as arguments, not measurements.”
As always, the best “polls” take place at the actual polling booths (absent Socialist trickery and lawlessness).
Roll on, November.
“Dear Dr. Kim”
“Dear Dr. Kim,
“My boyfriend and I have been together for many years, and we have various routines around the house which make life predictable, and we like it that way. (Some might call it ‘boring’, but horses for courses, right?)
“These ‘routines’ even extend to the bedroom, and we have a very satisfactory sex life.
“However, recently my boyfriend asked if instead of our normal low lighting or darkness, we could have all the lights on when we make love. He says he wants to see me enjoying the act.
“Well, I won’t. I have a hangup about my appearance — I admit it — and I don’t think I could handle having him watch me flop around the bed. He disagrees, saying that after all this time together, he knows what I look like, thinks I look fine, and it would be a departure from our usual routine.
“When I continued to refuse, he even said that this might be a ‘deal breaker’ in our sex life.
“I understand all that, but I really really don’t want to do it in bright lighting. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy sex that way, and it might turn me off altogether. That wouldn’t be good for our relationship, then.
“Dr. Kim, what am I to do?”
Dear Shy:
Firstly, there’s no need to be embarrassed about your preference for sex in darkness or low light. Darkness or dim lighting has always been a mood enhancer, especially for those people who don’t look like Salma Hayek, or Brad Pitt for that matter.
Secondly, your boyfriend is a total shit for saying that this might be a deal breaker: is he going to stop having sex just because you don’t want to go along with him?
However, his shittiness doesn’t end there.
Dr. Kim’s Tenth Law of Sex says: “If a man suddenly wants to shag under bright light, there’s a 90% chance that there’s going to be a video camera involved.” So if you think you’d be embarrassed by having sex in bright light, imagine your embarrassment when re-watching the fun and games on your TV later, perhaps on many occasions. Expect your embarrassment to grow exponentially when your would-be Quentin Tarantino shares the video with his mates or with everyone in the world via the Internet.
I think your long-term relationship is going to have an expiration date. Make some plans accordingly.
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