In her gloved hand she had a .25 automatic...

Breda has the picture and story here.

When we were at the range, I had the opportunity to run a couple of magazines through a Baby Browning. Truth to tell, I kind of liked it. The little thing shot pretty much to point of aim at 15 feet, and kept all the rounds in a 2" to 3" circle, and for me anyway, experienced no failures to feed, fire, or eject.

Both Breda and her mom had trouble even getting the thing to run - the first problem is the slide requires considerable hand strength to operate, while the pistol itself offers very little area for getting a good hold. The next problem is related - there is only room for one finger on the grip, and unless you really bear down, the gun will shift in your hand dissipating enough of the recoil impulse to result in failure to reliably eject. Finally, making the whole thing worse, is the fact that if you try to hold higher in the frame, (a natural reaction to try to get a more secure grip) the slide will ride back across the top of your hand creating your own little set of railroad tracks.

I think it's a case where the design of the gun was so successful that it ultimately failed. (See Update)It was made small enough to hide anywhere and then deployed in a hurry, but if you don't get a perfect hold it's going to jam on you, thus defeating the purpose of a back up gun.

If "smallest possible" is your goal, you would probably be better served by one the the NAA mini revolvers, but when a dangerous dame gets the drop on Phillip Marlowe this is what she's holding.

"Reach for the sky, shamus."

Update: James Rummel Takes exception to my use of the word failure.
Actually, he is correct, I was writing without thinking, and failure, was not the word I should have used.

What I was trying to convey, albeit clumsily, (hey, it was afternoon at work, and I was in the torpor stage of my day) is that all firearms - all machines actually - consist of a series of trade offs. With hand guns, you are balancing size, weight, capacity, power of cartridge, ease of use, cost, and many other factors.

Hideout pistols trade capacity, and in case of the .25 autos, stopping power, for concealability.

The Baby Browning I shot was a finely crafted pistol - well designed and a pleasure to look at, but I think in this case, too much was traded off for size.

It obviously wasn't a failure commercially, but a gun that you are likely to need "right here, right now" had best be as close to 100 per cent reliable as possible, and the Browning because of its small size (not design flaws) is susceptible to jams caused by improper grip.

It is not fair to compare a pistol designed in the early part of the twentieth century to modern designs, and if I had a chance to buy one at a decent price I would - It's a very cool gun, but I would not carry it for defense.

So, no, the Baby Browning was not a failure, and the dangerous dame from the above would just not be the same holding a Kel-Tec.

Just In Time For The Big Show

I do not know if Mr. Rummel is a religious man. Heck, I’m not, but you don’t have to be religious to recognize when someone is doing the Lord’s work – and Mr. Rummel most assuredly is.

A day or so ago he posted an insightful piece about America’s pistol – the .45 ACP government model of 1911 its heirs and assigns.

And now the Gun-O-Sphere has once again gone up in flames with .45-vs-Glock-vs-who all knows what fever.

I have thought back, and to the best of my imperfect memory, I don’t believe I have ever fired John Moses Browning’s (PBUH) masterpiece. I’ve shot a fair amount of forty five auto – through Glocks, XD’s and other polymer wonders, but never a 1911.

I don’t feel a void in my life for this lack of experience, but nonetheless, one should own and fire this quintessential firearm – it’s a kind of duty which has been laid upon us by history.

So, when one of these showed up at my local gunshop, I felt it was time to do my duty, and make America proud. I realize it is not a Colt or Kimber, but it was half the price of their compact models, all steel, reasonably small so it could serve as a carry pistol, and with the right magazines and tuning, reliability wouldn't be a big issue.

So, without further ado, allow me to introduce my newest boomstick…

You’ll notice it doesn’t really look like a government model, and there’s a story that goes with it. I was saving up the money for the .45 and lining up all the stuff that needs to go with a new gun, and making frequent visits to the store to commune with my future purchase. When I noticed the Smith Model 19 in the rental case.

It just kind of stood out among the Taurus, and Glock, and Springfield Armory offerings, so I asked to see it, and it felt GOOD. So I put it back - I was buying a gummint model.

Next time at the range for a little practice with the J-Frame, I asked to see it again. It had been in the case for two weeks and I don't think anyone had rented it, or if they had, they had only put a few rounds through it. I asked for a bore light... the inside of the barrel was like a mirror and the rifling was sharp and distinct.

Nope, I've got revolvers, and I'm buying that .45 auto, I said to myself.

I happened to be at the range a week later, and since I was definitely buying the High Standard, there was no harm in renting the Smith, just, you know, to see how it shot...

It shot good. Real good.

I took another turn with the bore light... the forcing cone was clean and showed no evidence of cracking. The finish was black and shiny, without scratches, or wear at the muzzle or cylinder face, and she locked up tight. Hell, there wasn't even a visible drag line around the cylinder. I actually believed Mike, the merchant of death behind the counter, when he said the guy who brought it in claimed only ten or so rounds had gone through it.

So forgive me John Moses. I meant to buy a forty-five, I really did, and there is no excuse but the weakness of my soul for I have been possessed by the allure of the Smith and Wesson.

Things That Work Right Up Until They Don't

From a thread at OFCC, we find this. Yes indeed, Virginia Tech was a completely safe, gun-free place... right up until it wasn't.

Naturally, the editorialist gives us the police view on the matter:

Gene Ferrara, chief of police at the University of Cincinnati, had this to say to CNN not long ago: "I don't think the answer to bullets flying is to send more bullets flying. My belief is we ought to be focusing on what we do to prevent the shooting from starting."

My question to Mr. Ferrara is: If sending more bullets flying isn't the answer, when you arrive at the scene of an active shooting (assuming you are in time to do anything other than identify the bodies) what are you going to do to stop it, use harsh language?

Interesting Thought You Got There Steve

From Thirdpower we find this. My only question about Steve Herr's self-proclaimed "best solution in the world" is, once he has decided who he's not going to let have any guns, how is he going to take them away?

Seriously Steve, take me for example, I'm not really a joiner, so I'm certainly not part of any militia you would recognize, therefore you withdraw your consent for me to own guns - so be it. I've still got them what's your plan now genius?

Stevie boy - don't keep these things to yourself... share with us your next step.

Summer Gun

We don't have a climate like the steamy south, but summer around here can get hot and dampish, and carrying the Ruger gets a little uncomfortable despite the stellar pie protection it offers.

With Breda carrying her Bersa, I figured the now idle S&W Airweight would make a fine summer carry gun. It might seem odd to trade one snubby in for another, but the Ruger is a hefty chunk of steel, and even with its short barrel, the recoil with .357 magnums it still quite manageable. Overall, it shoots like a much larger pistol, but does require a solid holster for carry. The Smith, on the other hand, is a true pocket pistol - light enough that I really don't notice it's there.

Saturday, I went to the range for a little practice, and learned something - skill is a perishable commodity, and the smaller the gun the more perishable the skill. Frankly, I sucked - and I picked up a flinch (sounds kind of dirty doesn't it?).

The recoil from the little gun is noticeable, very noticeable. Pardon the strange comparison but the recoil on the Ruger with .357's is like a freighter in heavy seas: bang, and up she goes, and then I haul it back down to get the sights in target for the follow-up shot, but the Smith is like a much smaller boat on a choppy lake - a little bouncy and unpredictable. After about 50 rounds of practice, I was able to get the target below - five shots in five seconds at 21 feet repeated three times, total of fifteen rounds in five inches. Not too bad, and I do have the laser sights to fall back on in a pinch. However, more practice is called for, which really really isn't a bad thing.


Oh, and the day after I made the switch, the weather turned cold, maybe I have the Al Gore touch.

Nomination via Sympathetic Magic

I note Ahab is still asking for your vote.
I voted for him and so should you - lots.

See, I was thinking, I was. Met Ahab at the Indy Blogger Bash, and found him to be good-looking, intelligent, and articulate, and with the exception of good-looking, articulate, and intelligent, just like me, but younger and handsomer and more well-spoken and smarter.

And it hit me... President! POTUS, C in C, the big cheese, that's what Ahab should be. Think of it, a president we wouldn't have to watch like a hawk, and who carries - we could retire most of the secret squirrels and congress would darn well better behave or else - well just look at the pins in the above link ifyouknowwhatmeahandIthinkyoudo.

It'll work like this: Ahab has not reached the constitutionally mandated age to assume office, so there is time to get the universe used to the idea, but we the lazy, the unambitious, and slightly drunk must act to make it so.

Vote for Ahab, not just for the Blackwater thing, but for everything - waitress asks what you'll have? Tell her, "I'll have the Ahab." Precinct committee chairman - Ahab. Dogcatcher, congressman, all-star ballot: Ahab, Ahab, AHAB!

Soon the universe will begin to notice, the stars will begin to align, and with any luck, on at the first opportunity after his thirty-fifth birthday, it will be Hail To The Ahab time.

You may call me crazy, but think about this: every gun grabber group in the world relies on magical thinking no different than this, and look how close they came.

We have more people, a better cause, and a better candidate. Thank you for your support.

Lets Discuss This Like Adults

Now we are in the Post-Heller United States (feels kind of nice to say that) the “reasonable gun control folk” are offering compromises. Funny thing is, their compromises now are pretty much the same as their compromises then, and take roughly the form of, “We will graciously allow you red-necked, knuckle dragging, anatomically compensating, hillbillies to keep a single shot bb gun and one round of ammunition in return for turning in all your other guns.”

Now what could be fairer than that?

This article has been making its way around the gunbloggers, and I picked it up at Alphecca. After reading it, I can’t help but envision Charles VI looking up from the mud of Agincourt and saying to Henry, “We’ll call it a draw then?”

Late To The Party

Took a Bore Snake to my little Glenfield Model 60 yesterday, and oh boy did it make clean up a breeze. Why did I wait so ling before trying it? Cussedness most likely. Now, however, I'll never be without one - it's a very handy dingus.

Five To Four

Whew! I can breathe again. Dat Was A Tose One. Excuse me while I go fill in this hole I was digging in the back for no reason... really, I just like to dig. Flowers, yeah, flowers - we were going to plant Azaleas in this cement-lined, climate-controlled, hole in the ground. But now, it doesn't go with the rest of the landscaping plan, so we'll just skip it.

I was hoping for 6 to 3 at least - It is kind of frightening to think that almost half of the highest judges in the land hate our freedom and think enslaving us is just jake, but I'll leave the cloud for later and celebrate the silver lining today.

Rule #1

I was visiting friends on Sunday and wanted to show off the new pistol, so I transfer it from the range case to the original box in preparation for locking it in the trunk, as I am doing so, T.W. says, "Rule number one?". (Thanks to Xavier for the link)

Did I stop, open the cylinder and visually check every chamber?

You. Bet. Your. Ass. I. Did.

God, I love that woman.

Breda’s First Boomstick

T.W. isn’t a shy person by any means, but she doesn’t object to being in the background until she’s comfortable with a situation. So, after going shooting a few times with me, and expressing some disappointment in her progress, I pointed out we had a family membership at the range and, since it was only ten minutes away, she could run up there anytime she wanted and practice to her heart’s content.

After thinking about it for a while, she decided that, yes indeedy, she could do just that. Now she packs up the guns, walks in, spends a little time cracking wise with the guy behind the counter, gets her a lane and opens fire.

My wife’s a regular at the gun shop; I’m very proud of her.

What’s more, she likes to learn anything from anyone who has something to teach: .357 mag – sure, Kel-Tec .32 – bring it on, wadcutters in the .38 for double action practice – sounds good. She does draw the line at the gun shop commandos who try to chat up the cute girl at the range – Trophy Wife has a stare that could teach Lord Kelvin a thing or two about cold – trust me.

If all goes well, a new milestone should be reached Thursday - yep, my wife is going to buy her first gun. We don’t have a .22 revolver and no home is complete without one, so yesterday I made some arrangements, and a shiny new Taurus Model 94 should be arriving tomorrow. I will be at work, so T.W. is the one who will fill out the paperwork, hand over the money, and get the thrill of opening the toy box. I hope this particular thrill doesn’t become too habit forming if she developes a liking for Kimbers and such.

I may have made a small mistake of showing her the pistol on the Taurus website however. She clicked on the accessories link and thought the optional rosewood grips quite handsome. I told her there were lots of aftermarket grips available though, and look around some. She found some all right – they’re shiny, and pearly, and pink… oh my.

I guess I’m secure enough in my manhood to shoot a pistol with pink grips, I guess.

Help Me Out Here

I’ve been thinking about the thirteen year old kid who got himself suspended from school for drawing a picture of a ray gun. There’s been a lot of commentary on this from people who are smarter than me, and all I’ve got is the choice between stomping around the house sputtering like an old lawnmower engine and frightening T.W. or trying to get some thoughts down on paper.

First, the teacher: seems to me “Johnny, you should be paying attention to what is going on here and not doodling, so please put that back in your notebook and focus on the blackboard” seems to be the appropriate response to the situation. Did this teacher develop a dislike for the kid (don’t tell me it doesn’t happen), and see a chance to stick it to him? Was little Johnny a discipline problem who needed straightening out - content of his doodles notwithstanding? Or does the teacher suffer from what can be described as primitive screwhead-ism – you know, the belief that the picture of a thing somehow invokes the power of the thing itself? Doesn’t seem like this is a desirable quality for someone whose job it is to guide young minds on their intellectual journey.

The principal of the school, at least, should show a little more restraint. A lecture about paying attention, maybe a note home, even a stint of after school time (and a little chat with the boy’s teacher to maybe display a little more fortitude when confronted with icky pictures) seem appropriate here. We all know what actually happened – claiming that the rules are the rules, and she had no choice but to obey, the principal ordered a five day suspension, later magnanimously lowered to three days, and the school's not discussing the matter citing, wait for it… the student’s right to privacy.

How did we get to this place? How is it that cascading idiocy cannot be stopped, that people with authority are so desperate to bow to the altar of expediency that they become incapable of exercising the judgment without which their authority becomes a farce?

Does the school administration really believe they have prevented a tragedy, that they have made their school safer? Do they think they have taught the kid a lesson? They have, but not the one they were intending: their ounce-of-image equals pounds-of-performance posturing has simply exposed them as hysterical frauds, and learning that about them is an education of sorts.

Apocalypse

Mr. Ruger made some fine guns - affordable, dependable, and built like tanks. I own a couple and like them. One of the favorites is a MK II - since it's a twenty-two it sees a lot of use. Actually T.W. shoots it more than me - lordy but that girl can burn through the rimfire, if she ever takes up benchrest shooting it'll be second mortgage time.

Anyway, it was out at the range Thursday (did I mention T.W. likes to shoot?) and I didn't get to cleaning it until Saturday morning in preparation for T.W. to take co-worker Holly on her first time shooting.

As I was saying, Mr. Ruger made some fine guns, but there is one slight problem with his MK II auto pistol... cleaning it, more precisely, re-assembling it after cleaning is difficult. Wait, not difficult: a devilish, screaming with frustration, swearing, and calling the god's own fire down of the accursed thing - pain in the butt.

Hold the pistol upside down, insert the post of the mainspring housing through the top of the frame, make sure the hammer spur is dangling free and aligned with the little-dimple-that-you-can't-see, then slowly rock the bottom of the mainspring housing into the grip frame, and oops... the little little post from step one has levered its way out so start over. Now pull the trigger (but don't pull it), and hooray, the bottom of the mainspring housing slips into place like it was made to fit (I suspect it was), flip up the little lever to lock everything into place, and pull back the bolt to spread out the oil on the receiver rails... I said, pull back the bolt... why doesn't the ##$%$### bolt go back? Why is the @$@%#@!@*%$$#& gun locked up tighter than a politician's ethics? Okay, jimmy open the little lever and work it back and and forth while gently cursing to remove the mainspring housing, repeat steps one through twenty-seven until some combination of the above results - god knows how because no one else does - in the pistol going back together (n.b. the use of the passive voice is intentional here, because the correct re-assembly of a Ruger MK II is the result of forces beyond your control) and working.

Saturday I took it apart, cleaned it, and put it back together correctly the first time. I have no idea how. I live in fear that this is a sign of the end times.