Sunday, January 18, 2015

SKS and chest colds



So far, I have been able to resist the urge to buy another firearm.  It is not all due to will power.  Rather, my resolve has been buttressed by a lack of funds.

It is amazing how often “being good” resembles being broke.

My current fascination is an SKS.  With a few modest modifications it looks like an ideal home defense weapon.  Ditch the bayonet and put it in a lightweight, synthetic stock to make it lighter and handier.  Throw on a ghost ring rear sight and load it with softpoints to prevent “over penetration” problems.  The best solution to “over penetration” is 100% center-of-mass hits and expanding bullets.

If history is any guide, I will have the hots for something else in six months or so.  I do not need anymore hardware.  I need to spend more time shooting the hardware I have.

In other news


We are still in “overage” mode with our ISP but the text messages are not as frequent.  The text messages are the ones that inform me that we have burned through another Gigabyte and will owe them another $10.

Mostly, we keep the modem turned off.  We had been using the computers while the kids were in school.  It was for low-bandwidth tasks like reading email and the few, must-read blogs and news sites.  That worked pretty good until Kubota got a chest cold.  Mrs ERJ took him to the doc who put him on a Prednisone burst and an antibiotic. 

Kubota stayed home the next day and has hardly left his bedroom since.  The kids have Monday off for Martin Luther King, Jr day.  I wonder if Dr. “character within” would approve of time out of school in his name.

That forced me into surreptitiously popping the periscope up and doing a few tasks.  I might be able to get about twenty minutes in before the response time goes into the toilet.  I would check and Kubota would be doing “something” on his phone.

“Are you on the internet?”  I would ask.

“Nope.”  He would reply. “Stop asking me.”

I would turn off the modem and about 30 seconds later I would hear him start bouncing a tennis ball against the bedroom wall.

Hmmmm.

Kubota’s cold is driving us all nuts.  I hate to say it, but guys make lousy patients.

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