Stickers

Here’s a special post for London Mayor Sadiq Khan, whose response to the violent crime spree in his city is to ban knife carry.

No, I don’t own one of these lovely creatures, but I’m currently negotiating with a guy who might know how to make them. If I / he can get it to work, I might just sell them through this here website.

For the people for whom the above pic might cause fainting spells: these aren’t knives; they’re called “hammer drill bits”. It’s how you make a large hole in wood (with a hammer) when you don’t have an electric- or battery-powered drill handy. The coloring is purely cosmetic.

And if anyone knows where the originals came from (i.e. who makes them), let me know in Comments.

“Dear Dr. Kim”

“Dear Dr. Kim:
“A couple weeks ago, I was out riding my bicycle (as part of my fitness regime). I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts because the weather was hot, and I didn’t want to sweat too much. I was about five miles from home, riding pretty fast when I took a corner on the gravel trail and my back wheel went out from under me. I hit the ground pretty hard and although I wasn’t seriously injured, I still got a massive case of “road rash” on my shoulder, biceps, forearm and calf muscle, all on the left side. I managed to limp home (the bike was pretty mangled) and cleaned up, then put antibiotic gel on the scrapes and covered each of them with a sterile dressing.
“The stinging and burning lasted for several days, and one evening I was lying there unable to sleep, when a thought came to me: I needed something to take my mind off the pain. The problem was that I couldn’t move much without pulling off the dressing, and I realized that I needed some mothering: not to be too graphic — and I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this — I wanted something like a blowjob to get the proper level of distraction.
“So I put out a couple of calls to some lady friends and outlined my need for a little nursing, some… shall we say “advanced” mothering. To cut a long story short [too late — Dr.K] , not ONE of these friends was the slightest bit interested in helping me out.
“Now my question: was I asking too much of my lady friends?”
— Road Rash, Atlanta

Dear Mr. Rash (Swedish, is it?):
Let me give you more than one answer, because you have some bigger issues than frigid girl friends.

In the first place: unless you’re training for a serious athletic event like the Tour de France, I see absolutely no need for anyone to ride a bicycle outdoors — especially when there are any number of stationary bikes to be had on eBay. Outside, there lies sunburn, heatstroke, traffic collisions, bugs, bitey pit bulls, excessive sweating and, as you discovered, a real possibility of injury from a simple fall.

Stop that shit. God invented air-conditioning — or maybe it was Westinghouse, I don’t remember — but regardless, you can get all the exercise you need without going outdoors and exposing yourself to the elements and/or automobile accidents, bitey pit bulls etc. You got off easy this time, so take it as a warning.

Now for your second issue, that of your so-called “lady friends” who won’t help you get through your pain. I find it a difficult one to address because back in my day, most men had any number of female acquaintances — let alone actual female friends — who would be only too willing to pop over for a little impromptu nursing if a man were to be ill or injured. Hell, I remember one time when even my cousin Stephanie… ah, never mind.

Your problem, you will be either glad or saddened to note, is not an uncommon one these days. Modern young women seem to have lost all sense of maternal feelings, probably because they’re “building careers”, “finding themselves” or else spending all their spare time looking at their bloody cell phones. Then when they reach the age of oh, thirty-two, they suddenly rediscover their maternal instinct, only it’s not for a wounded friend like yourself, but for an actual baby — which means you’ve lost out not just once (as a young man) but twice (as an older one).

Personally, I blame the godless feministicals, who have poisoned the minds of these young women and made them feel as though a blowjob is a privilege, to be grudgingly (if at all) doled out only as a reward for “good behavior” on a man’s part, e.g. buying them a diamond necklace for Valentine’s Day or paying to have their kitchen remodeled. This, when we all know that a BJ is more of a friendly gesture, carrying as it does no fear of pregnancy nor even excessive emotional attachment (if properly positioned).

What you need to do is to cut these women out of your life, ASAP. I have no idea where one finds a “normal” woman with mothering/nursing instincts — like I said, this seems to be a recent phenomenon and one outside my experience and expertise — but one thing’s for sure: the lady “friends” that you have are not true friends at all. (Although you can be sure that if they needed your ummm muscles, e.g. to help them move house or put up a heavy shelf, they’d be all over you like syrup on a pancake.) Ditch ’em, and good riddance.

Good luck with your recovery, and don’t forget to sell your bike — if it’s not too badly damaged, that is — and start exercising responsibly, indoors. That’s the important lesson, here.
— Dr. Kim

Sucker Bet

Anyone care to place a bet on how long this marriage will last, or how long it will take before Hubby has an affair?

…and I’ll also give 2-1 odds that the sex wasn’t that great, either.

Myself, I wouldn’t take any of those bets.

Of course, he might also be some pussified  beta man who was prepared to wait for three (!!!) years to get laid, and still thinks that she’s within her rights to deny him sex now that they’re married.

If I were to let my imagination run riot, I could see other possibilities:

  • she married Beta Boy because he’ll support her, but she doesn’t love him, OR
  • she’s already getting her sex from some Bad Boy and her husband doesn’t know, OR
  • she’s playing the long game, and is going to rape his bank account should he ask for a divorce after being denied sex once too often, OR
  • her long game is to file for a quickie divorce herself, then rape his bank account.

I’m also prepared to accept the power of “AND” in all the above scenarios, but I don’t think I’m too far off on any of them, though.

Gratuitous Gun Pic: Pistol-Caliber Carbines

From deep inside Commie Blue America, Reader Brad R. writes:

I am faced with a dilemma. I need/want to buy a relatively inexpensive (<$400) pistol-caliber carbine. I also must take ownership of said carbine before June 13, 2018, because worthless, pointless recently approved LOCAL gun ban. While not an absolute requirement, I’d prefer a carbine in 9mm that is +P rated. I toss this in because (1) ammo common to gun(s) I already own and (2) lower cost than calibers such as .40 S&W, .45ACP, etc.
Last night, the Village of Deerfield – Board of Trustees (an unholy pox upon them) approved what they call an “assault weapon” ban. The ban was a response to the mass shooting at Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High. It applies to just about every conceivable semi auto rifle with a detachable mag which also has any one (1) of five cosmetic features. There is also an extensive laundry list of specifically named rifles. The ban also forbids possession of detachable magazines with capacity of more than ten (10) rounds and applies equally to rifle & pistol magazines, without a “grandfather” clause. There are a couple of exemptions to the ban, but I don’t qualify for them. If any of your readers are familiar with the ban in neighboring Highland Park, the Deerfield ban is pretty much a carbon copy.
To illustrate the depth of stupidity of the ban, a Ruger 10/22 in a conventional stock would be fine, but the same 10/22 in a “tactical” stock would be verboten.
The ban in question does not forbid ownership, it only bans possession, manufacture, sale, transfer of the forbidden fruit within the boundaries of The Village. I don’t have to worry about possession. A personal situation allows me to reside outside of the village, but for complicated reasons I need to keep Deerfield as my legal address.
Moving north to Wisconsin or to another part of Fee America is not an option at this time. So there you have it. What Would Kim Do??

I am somewhat confused by the “possession vs. ownership” distinction (the same thing, surely?) but I’ll leave that aside for now.

Here’s the nitty gritty of the question: unless you go with a cheap ‘n nasty carbine (e.g. Hi-Point) that you want to get for symbolic reasons only, you’ll have to forget the sub-$400 price point. And given that the Colt AR-style 9mm carbine requires your bank manager in attendance at the time of sale, there are only a couple I’d look at, and your choices are kinda dependent on which 9mm pistol you want to pair with the carbine.

If your handgun is in the Beretta 92 series, then there’s  the Beretta CX4 Storm, the most innocuous of the pistol-caliber carbines.

I’ve shot this little cutie before, and I loved it: accurate, reliable and lightweight. And yes, it handles +P ammo easily.

Another option would be the Tresna Defense JAG9G, which takes Glock magazines.

I will confess that I haven’t fired this carbine yet, but a few people whose opinions I trust have done so, and they like both its reliability and the AR-style action. It also looks scawwwy (always a Good Thing when it comes to matters like this).

But speaking of scawwwy-looking guns, I’m going to throw a wild card into the mix here, and suggest that you don’t bother pairing your carbine with a handgun. Why not stick it to these gun-fearing wussies, and go all-out?

What I mean is this:

Yes, it’s a Kalashnikov, to be specific the KR-9 SBR carbine, in 9mmP (with the added bonus of an eeeeevil folding stock), and Kalashnikov USA is shipping them out as we speak. Now demand is high so you may have to jump on it, and the price is over a grand — but I cannot think of a finer way to rub the gun-controllers’ noses in it than by getting one of these bad boys. This pic was taken at SHOT this past January, and the reps were beating people back with sticks.

There are some other choices for carbines (see here), but I don’t know anything about them, and the low price points on some of them make me a little nervous.

For all those folks in a similar situation to Reader Brad, feel free to start shopping around.

And as always, additional suggestions and personal experiences / recommendations are welcome in Comments.

Dept. Of Righteous Killings

This from Britishland:

Police were called in the early hours of Wednesday morning after reports of a burglary in progress and a man injured at an address in Hither Green.
Mr Osborn-Brooks, who was at home with his disabled wife Maureen, had found two men inside the address and a struggle ensued between him and the men.
It is believed that one of the suspects had a screwdriver and threatened the homeowner with it.
Vincent, from Kent, was found collapsed on the street and had suffered a stab wound to the upper body. He was taken by the London Ambulance Service to a central London hospital where he was pronounced dead at 3.37am.

So far, so good. To summarize: violent career criminal (it turns out) invades home, threatens elderly homeowner and gets killed for his efforts. [pause to let applause and cheering die down]

But of course, this is not-so-Great Britain, where criminals may not face consequences for their criminal actions — especially at the hands of the public, no matter what the cause. So Our Hero faced the wrath of the Fuzz:

He was arrested on suspicion of grievous bodily harm and further arrested on suspicion of murder. He was taken to a south London police before being bailed.

[pause to let howls of outrage subside]

However, there is a happy ending:

[He] has now been told that no action will be taken following discussions between the Met Police and Crown Prosecution Service.

Needless to say, the air is full of relatives (most of them career criminals as well) wailing about how the dead goblin had a heart of gold (a perforated heart of gold, as it turns out) and He Didn’t Deserve To Die because he was just trying to support his family (I’m not making this up; it was in an earlier report).

But this being Britain, there’s a sting in the tale [sic]:

On Friday, [Our Hero’s] house was being boarded up and metal shutters were placed over windows amid security fears. Two vans, one with a cherry picker on the back, arrived this afternoon to secure the empty house. Heavy duty security grills were also fitted around all the windows.

So in defending himself from two murderous intruders, he now has to live his life cowering behind boarded-up windows, in fear of reprisal from the dead asshole’s relatives; because while the Britcops are very efficient in arresting the law-abiding, they’re completely incompetent when it comes to protecting them. And of course, there is no way in hell Our Hero is ever going to be allowed to own a shotgun to protect himself.

This is not going to end well. You read it here first.

So when our local would-be gun controllers confiscators talk about “reasonable U.K.-style gun laws”, please note that this would be one of the outcomes for us law-abiding folks.

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the range.

Flight Of Fancy

Back in the day when I played in a band, the various members had some rather interesting hobbies: Drummer Knob collected sports cars (and still does), Guitarists Kevin and Donald collected venomous snakes (the idiots), Keyboards Player Mike had his private pilot license (PPL), Guitarist Marty had his chopper pilot’s license, while Bassist Kim… well, I did a lot of testing of the effects of alcohol on the human body. (The band was my hobby.)

Anyway, Mike also had a two-seater ultralight aircraft, and I went up with him on several occasions. It was great fun, and it looked something like this: essentially, a wing with a”pusher” (rear-facing) motorcycle engine attached.

While I was looking at pics of old planes last week (for the RAF’s centenary), I happened upon something which made me stop and think: “I’d love to have one of those and fly it around.”

This is the Airco DH.2, designed by Geoffrey De Havilland himself (PBUH), and while it’s a little more aircraft than an ultralight (with two wings and a substantial tail assembly), the principle is the same: a “pusher” engine mounted behind the pilot.

I’d just use a modern engine (Honda Gold Wing?) in place of the old underpowered 100 hp Gnôme Monosoupape rotary engine, which had a rather disturbing tendency to lose its cylinders in flight. (And yes, I’d very much like to keep the Lewis machine gun too, thankyouverramush.)

I know the DH.2 is only a single-seater, but then if I wanted to go the extra step and carry a passenger as well, there’s always the Royal Aircraft Factory’s F.E.2b:

…also with the machine gun, of course.

I’m too old for this stuff now, more’s the pity; but let me tell you, given half the chance, I’d do it in a heartbeat anyway — in either aircraft, even without the guns.