Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude

Filthie's Mobile Fortress Of Solitude
Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted

Monday, 10 July 2017

The Gun That Started WW1

GAH. Pocket pistols. Hork! Spit! I shot Mad Jack in the ass with one of those for a joke and when he found out about it he ran me down and beat me to a bloody green pulp! HAR HAR HAR!

I shouldn't joke, I suppose - these things ARE deadly at close range. Apparently the Archduke of Austria and his wife were cashiered by this gun. When I look at that little pistol, and the hell and fury it unleashed - I can almost see the liberal lefty calls for gun control. My granddad got pinned down and shot up in No Man's Land in WW1 and became a wounded war vet at the age of 17. Until his dying days he got pissy and sorrowful on Remembrance Day and almost lost his mud when they let shopping malls stay open for business during the 'holiday'.  Grampa was disgusted with me and my guns.

It makes me uncomfortable when I cross swords with vets. They've been in the chit, they or their friends have been hurt or killed there, and I completely understand and respect their scars that you can see and those you can't. But the moral high ground is what it is; our leaders HAVE to fear us, or at least respect us. Treaties, contracts and promises are just hot air - but cold steel and hot lead are real and will make everyone at least try to be honest.

1 comment:

  1. And there you nailed it.

    My uncle carried a .25 Beretta during WWII, and it served him very well. He carried it in his hat, by the way, and by his own admission he was captured several times by the krauts. He was never incarcerated.

    I carry a pocket pistol as my CCW weapon. I carry with the hope that I'll never have to draw and put lead in the air, because as soon as that time comes, I'll be wishing for a 12 gauge combat shotgun instead of whatever I have - but it's better than nothing.

    And that, I think, is the point. It's not that an old, fat, high mileage (and it shows) MAN is going to successfully defeat an elite cadre of government sponsored jack booted thugs; it's that none of those thugs, individually, wants to take a bullet from a 9x18 Makarov. That's what keeps them in check, and that's what causes the group of polar bear hunting thugs to back off, and that's what causes me to walk with a certain air of confidence when I'm traveling through a bad section of town.