I’ve carried a Glock 26 for about 8 years now. For almost that entire time I had been carrying magazines with a +2 round extension. A couple years ago I started carrying a Glock 19 magazine with a spacer on it.
Basically, I was carrying a Glock with a Glock 19 grip but a Glock 26 barrel. Which is the equivalent of handicapping myself by using a shorter barrel with a shorter sight radius.
The grip is what is hard to conceal, so if I’ve got a bigger grip I might as well have the longer barrel that helps to shoot more accurately as well.
I finally upgraded to a Glock 19.
I took it outto the range and burned 100 rounds through it, practicing drawing from concealment and firing, one and two handed, than practiced clearing a plate rack as well.
I loved it.
There is definitely a reason the Glock 19 is the most popular gun that Glock makes.
It’s hard to describe it, the best I’ve come up with is what I posted on facebook recently.
Going from carrying and shooting a Glock 26 to a Glock 19 is like dumping a girl that ranks a solid 5 on the 1 to 10 scale of attractiveness and dating a perfect 10. Why did I wait so long?
“Can’t you see? Every shot I have taken, since I was that little boy on the gun range, was to bring me closer to you.” – Memoirs of a Geisha (paraphrased)
I’ve never seen Memoirs of a Geisha, but I googled top romantic movie quotes and that one seemed perfectly editable for my purpose.
The factory sights leave something to be desired. So that will need to be remedied.
I was rocking some old Dave Sevigny Competition Slant Pro sights. He was the Team Glock Captain until the whole underage sex fiasco blew up, when Jessie Abbates husband got caught up with then-underage Tori Nonaka. (Which is why I assume she is on the Team, but the rest of the Team seems to avoid her like the plague.)
But I think it’s time for me to jump on the Night Sights bandwagon.
Although I fully intend to rock this thing in some competitions. Sorry my dear, sweet Glock 35, you are going to have some much deserved time off.
Speaking of Glocks, AimSurplus has law enforcement trade in Glock 22’s for $309, and they have mis-matched serial number Glock 22’s for $280.
That’s an incredible steal.
Go get one.
If you aren’t a .40 fan, you can drop in a 9mm barrel for about $100 bucks and use some Glock 17 magazines.
Glocks are awesome like that.
For people who have no idea what I’m talking about, see below. Glock 26, with +2 round extension is on the left. Glock 19 is on the right.
Doesn’t seem like a big difference until you hold it in your hand.
(That’s what she said)
You are actually SUPERIOR!
Did you know in ancient Sparta, the only Spartans who were allowed markers on their graves were men who fell in battle or women who died in child birth?
They held giving birth on the same level as dying in battle. The equality of the creation of life and the taking of life.
If something about that isn’t romantically poetic – I don’t know poetry.
(I don’t know poetry)
Take in mind that this isn’t across the board and applying to everyone of each sex. There’s a broad spectrum, and that’s great. Yay diversity! Except for some people…they shouldn’t be allowed to breed and water down future generations(We all know someone like that).
But when I paint – I prefer to throw the can at the wall instead of using a detailing brush.
With that warning out of the way…
There’s a joke that goes like this: What’s worse to go through – child birth or a kick to the groin? Answer – Kick to the groin, because a woman will think about having another child but no man will consider another kick.
Women will go through 9 months of misery followed by hours of intense suffering, all to bring an innocent little life into this world. During this time, men will fetch them oddities for their cravings and try to make them comfortable enough to avoid their justifiable wrath at what we’ve done to them.
That’s pretty awesome. We should celebrate the heck out of what you go through. This is further proof of your superiority.
But modern feminism, has taken this push for ‘equality’ to far.
Everything now that doesn’t go in a woman’s favor is obviously based on sexism right?
“We don’t have a female president because of sexism!”
Oh shut up. Hillary is a morally bankrupt human being with bad politics. THAT’s why she wasn’t elected. You bring her to the table again and we’ll just keep showing her the door. Bring a lady worthy of the seat and she’ll get the seat.
“Women are paid less! Sexism!”
No, no it’s not. This has been debunked. Women choose to go into lesser paying fields. Men not only go into better paying fields, they also go into more dangerous fields that pay better as well. Women are more likely to leave the workplace for family purposes, like taking care of sick husbands with our debilitating colds, or children. Also female CEO’s make MORE than male CEOs. We’re talking 7 MILLION dollars more. And single, childless women, make more than single, childless men. In some cities as much as 20% more.
So I suppose, since women now have the right to vote, kill their own babies, work in the fields with men, get equal or better pay, and now play in the fire of combat – Feminists are just creating or grasping for things to whine about.
Here’s what you they are doing.
Dragging women down into the mud with men.
Men are brutish, unevolved things. No matter how many pajama clad, hot cocoa sipping, wimps abound out there, this is the nuts and bolts of who and what we are. It’s imprinted in our DNA.
Here’s how I know.
Go up to any man. Be it a lumber jack, Marine, barista, Momma’s Boy living in a basement, or even a Navy Sailor. (haha)
And ask them, “In the movie Braveheart who would you prefer to be? William Wallace who gallantly dies an agonizing death screaming FREEDOM! and immortalized in the pages of history? Or Robert DeBruce, who shirks his responsibilities to his countrymen, but wins the crown with barely any misery and suffering and is no longer remembered?”
The vast majority of us will say, William Wallace.
Because ingrained in man, even in childhood, is the desire to not only WIN but to prove themselves by overcoming a struggle. No kid goes out onto the playground playing Army Men or Cowboy and Indians and wants to LOSE. They go out, pretend to get wounded, then kill the bad guy.
It’s only later in their life that MANHOOD is beaten down in them by our ‘civilized society’ who tells them to tell a teacher rather than bloody a bully’s nose. Or it’s better to run and hide than stand and fight. And that nothing is worthy of sacrifice or risk unless someone else does it.
We men would rather stand bloodied and exhausted, but victorious on a mountain of corpses, boldly proclaiming that we have conquered our enemies, forever remembered for our deeds – than be handed a long life of safety, luxury, and ease with no one looking up in awe at you and your achievements.
Easiness is BORING.
There is proof of this in the glorious Marine Corps. We brag about the misery we endure. When we aren’t talking like Donald Trump and Billy Bush about women (People who complained about that wouldn’t last five minutes enlisted), we are swapping stories about how freaking miserable we’ve been. It’s not just about what we’ve accomplished, it’s about what we’ve endured. Then we talk about what other people have endured in awe.
Carlos Hathcock right?
Legendary Vietnam Marine Sniper. Death incarnate. He once spent three days crawling 2,000 yards in the wide open to shoot a naughty Charlie General. We don’t tell that story because it was a good shot or who he killed, no one cares the distance of the shot or the Generals name. We tell that story because it’s awesome what he put himself through to do it. He earned a bounty on his head. A bounty on his head! How awesome is it to be feared by your enemies they will pay to have you killed?!
That is a greatness achieved by few.
In the movie ‘300’ Leonidas points his spear at that coward traitor Ephialities and says, “May you live forever”. Because instead of dying in glorious combat with the Spartans, he will have to bear the disgrace of what he’s done for the rest of his life.
How much does that stink? No one wants to be remembered for being a loser. He’s not getting a marker on his grave! (Historically, Leonidas probably would have laughed at him and kicked him off the cliff when he offered his help. They were big into eugenics…)
But stop dragging women down to that level.
We are vastly different and there is nothing wrong with that.
Women are the civilizers.
They give men a purpose in a civilized society where we aren’t allowed to slam battle axes into each others faces. (Or during the peace times between battle axe slamming.)
They give us a reason to keep pushing. To better ourselves and our families.
We need responsibilities. We need a purpose for our desires. We need an outlet.
We may not be able to kill each other, but we can be the hero’s in our families eyes. Our kids can look up in awe at us.
And that’s enough for most of us.
The guy crying in the airport when he returns from deployment and holding his first born child for the very first time? A month prior he threw a frag grenade into a room full of Haji’s and made hamburger. High fives all around afterwards!
Then he’s turned into a giant cry baby when he returns home to the ones he’s loved and missed for 12 months.
With the exception of those guys who married strippers before deployment, men think constantly about home and their families. They try to compartmentalize it with what they do, but it’s always there in the background. It’s a powerful, powerful force that holds sway over a man.
There are studies out there that the biggest motivation for young men to avoid being dragged into a life of crime(or for leaving a life of crime) is having the responsibilities of a family.
I’m not aware of ANY study that says a woman needs a man. (Anything that’s not in Cosmopolitan magazine) But there are numerous ones that say the opposite in regards to men.
Women can give birth. Women can raise boys to be civilized, polite, capable men. Women tame the uncouth, savage man.
All we do is fight. Fight for ourselves and fight for our families.
Doesn’t matter if its on the killing fields of Iraq or in the back stabbing corporate world. We take our imprinted abilities and desires to become heroes and make it so.
Even if it’s just to our kids.
Feminism would have women believe that men consider them the weaker of sexes. That they are unable to do what men do, because men won’t let them. That they should be equal to men in every regard, social or biological.
No, no, no! That’s dumb! We are socially and biologically different creatures. And there is nothing wrong with that.
Yes, there are injustices out there, but there isn’t SEXISM hiding behind every potted fern in an HR Managers office.
There is nothing wrong with being different from each other and celebrating the fact that women are better at some things and men at others. We don’t need to be equal. We need to be different. Opposite and opposing forces.
For instance, I don’t believe women should be on the field of combat. I don’t believe they have the ingrained savagery needed. I think they should be kept out of the Infantry for that basis alone. Israel is a great example of how it can be done, but Israel has been on the brink of extinction for 70 years. They don’t have a choice, it’s every man, woman, and child needed for the defense of their country.
I also don’t believe that men have the depth of emotional or relationship strength that women do to have and care for children or keep societies tied together.
And if Daddy’s are heroes, Mommy’s are gods.
Men dying on battlefields don’t scream for their fathers. They scream for the one who bore them, cared for them, and imprinted on them their strength and love from the moment they entered this miserable world.
THAT’s the proof of power women wield over men.
Celebrate the differences. Embrace your strengths.
But my money for who is superior, is always on the ones giving birth and would willingly do it again.
Because no man wants to get kicked in the groin.
Not bad. First four days I hammered out 15,500 words and the last six days I managed to get almost as many again.
But word counts don’t mean squat unless it’s GOOD. I’d rather read a 70,000 word Louis L’Amour book than try to read a 500,000 word (feels like it) Ayn Rand book. He says in a couple sentences what she says in a couple pages. Great ideas! But don’t bore me to death telling me about them, lady.
I hear there are 250-300 words per page on your average sized novel(whatever that is), so I’ve around 100-120 pages written so far.
This is writing from 4am to 7am before work. That’s when I really progress the story. The smaller bits of time I get, I work on re-writing stuff. For re-writes, I mostly went back the beginning and started moving through the manuscript.
What I mean is, I’m on page 66 of fast writing and page 16 of re-writing.
I say mostly back to the beginning, because sometimes I have to re-write a whole bunch of junk. Like the other day, I realized I had written a character into a position where it just wouldn’t WORK. I had to scrap about 1,000 words and re-write it completely. That sucked.
When I fast write, I just beat the keys off the keyboard. Make some adjustments as it goes, and let it lay where it falls. Sometimes I’ll just dump a scene half-finished and move on if I can’t think of where to go with it. I just look at the outline, see what’s next and go.
Speaking of the outline, my original outline has zigged and zagged on and off track now. The more I think about this thing, the more I think ‘Hey, you know what would be cool?’ then I do that.
I actually had to make a new outline so I could keep track of what was going on and the new added scenes. No wonder it takes George R. Martin three years to write a book. Poor guy is trying to shove four high schools worth of drama into it.
Then I’ll be on the treadmill, or at work, or driving, and a new idea will pop into my head. Something cool that I have to pursue.
Welcome to the party, Chief Sitting Bull. You get an important scene. Thanks for all the new research I have to do on you and the Lakota Indian tribe. Ugh.
The bad part is, the more I re-write the more I realize my initial writing is ‘okay, but not great’.
I think this means I’m getting better as I go.
That also means, Reader Zero no longer gets to read anything as I write it. She has to wait until I’ve gone over it first to make it more of an official ‘rough draft’.
It’s for the best, dear.
My goal was 20,000 words written over a 4 day weekend. I got 15,500. Not bad I reckon since I’ve never done this before.
I’m also using what I wrote from 4:30-7:05am this morning as part of my 4 day holiday word count, since I hadn’t gone to work yet.
Those 15.5k words ended up being 37 pages long in size 12 font.
Pretty good I think. I’m not sure how many hours I worked on it. Maybe 12 total? An hour here. A couple hours there…
I also already had a bunch of background research done on characters, clothes, critters, guns… the good stuff. And the best part is thst since its fiction and since it’s my novel – I can do whatever I want.
This is for entertainment. All I care about is afterwards, can you say you enjoyed reading it? If yes, I get paid lots of money hopefully. Long live Capitalism!
Speaking of stupid critics… In 2010, Hurt Locker – which was absolutely ridiculous garbage to any service member, beat out Avatar in Best Picture.
Avatar made 2 billion dollars in 35 days. Hurt Locker made 49 million it’s entire run (probably including the VHS sales to fluff the numbers).
Which movie actually entertain people?
That’s why so many people went to see it, then brought their family, then talked about it around the water cooler at work. Cause it was epic and awesome and mind blowing, and even though they made Marines the bad guys (HA! Yea right!) it was okay because it was so entertaining you could ignore all the stupid crap like evil white people destroying a planet for a resource. (I see what you did there Mr. Cameron.)
Hurt Locker may have taken home a little Golden Statue, but no one cared. Not even James Cameron, he was to busy stacking truck loads of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck and laughing madly the entire time.
The first chapter was the hardest, I was scared to write dialogue because I thought it would sound dumb. I think there is just a couple lines in it.
But then, it is a butt kicking-try not to get eaten scene. Who needs dialogue for that? I just wrote a bunch of pew pew! noises and a couple ka-booms! in it mixed among some roars.
But as it progressed it got exponentially easier to write everything; action, description, conversations…. Now I’m in all sorts of dialogue-y stuff. But I’m about to start the chase scene. Yay! Action! Pew pew pew!
They say 40,000 is enough to technically count as a novel. But NANOWRIMO wants 50,000 for their ‘Write a Novel in the Month of November’ to count.
Whatever, it’s July, and I’ll do way more than that by the end of this month.
Considering how far along I am, I would expect to finish around 100,000 to 120,000 words.
Hmm… maybe I’m not so far along after all.
Reader Zero (based off the Patient Zero concept for the first person to spread a communicable disease) has enjoyed what’s finished so far of the rough draft. In her words, “I didn’t want to stop reading it! Write more. Now. I’ll watch the kids. Also, you are totally wrong describing women’s clothing.” (Paraphrased slightly)
I’ll take that as high praise since it’s still a rough draft and not polished yet. I know she won’t lie to me, she once told me something I wrote ‘bored her’.
Her only complaints were that the beginning of this was a little slow, and I used some modern phrases and words that are too out of place in 1885.
That certainly won’t do!
So I hacked it apart and made it faster paced and exciting. I gotta hook you with the beginning or you’ll never bother with the end.
Now I gotta study some more lingo.
I really want to put, “rootin’ tootin'” in there somewhere.
Trump may not act Presidential, but with the exclusion of actually being assassinated he has taken a Presidential beat down from every direction. Even his own corner is sucker punching him in the kidneys.
But the man is unstoppable.
Any other person would have withered and died under the continuous barrage of lies, misconceptions, character assassination attempts, and total fabrications. In addition to the their usual own baggage of self-doubt and worry of failure.
They would have given into the howling lefties who think he stole the election from Hillary.
With the help of Russia of course.
Never mind that we are now NINE investigations into that ridiculous James Bond style plot with zero evidence being presented. Because you know THAT would have been leaked by now. Kind of like how every ridiculous unfounded half-truth that was sourced ‘anonymously’ EXCEPT that Trump was not under actual investigation and that he WANTED Comey to investigate his own advisers to make sure there was nothing there.
And you’re going to tell us that a man who can’t keep his mouth shut about how everything he does is the most fantastic, most wonderful, most beautiful thing America has ever seen – has somehow pulled off the greatest heist in election history without exposing himself?
Excuse me while I wipe the tears of hilarity away from my eyes.
Trump ain’t Spectre.
But by now, any one else would have started to take a more moderate stance.
A less ‘offensive’ stance.
I put that in little ‘ ‘ marks because so far he’s got a great batting average for doing what he actually said he would. We, I include myself, voted for him because well… we would vote for a rotten head of cabbage before we would vote for Future Inmate Hillary.
But we elected him to do what he said he would do. And he’s actually doing it!
What a concept!
Anyone else would have given in to the threats of violence that the left constantly accuses US of. You know, us gun-toting, bible thumping conservatives of with our Ten Commandments of morality and AR-15s of death.
They would have pleaded for peace. Probably on a stage with Obama, Bush, and Serial Rapist Bill. All while holding hands, singing Kumbaya, and rhythmically swaying back and forth.
But not TRUMP!
He takes these hits on the chin like a freaking immovable statue of solid will power and CEO might.
Then he swings back, swiftly and brutally.
When he told Hillary, “Because you’d be in Jail” I SCREAMED in joy. I’ve never been a sports guy, but I imagine that’s what you guys do when your team wins the SuperBowl. Except this actually matters. (Sorry football fans, it’s just a game)
I thought I was going to wake up the kiddos. My wife was in the other room, so she missed one of the greatest moments in debate history. She thought something happened to me. Thank goodness for YouTube and the replay button.
Trump entertains me so. He’s a freaking SAVAGE in his responses sometimes.
This latest video of his old WWE days when he smacked down Vince McMahon and shaved his head, with Vince being replaced with CNN is entertainment comedy gold.
Back to my point.
He’s Rocky Balboa.
Against all odds, he’s walking through a withering storm of abuse. And he keeps swinging. Often he’s landing knock out punches.
This man LOVES America. You know that famous picture of Ronald Reagan smelling the American Flag? That’s how I view Trump and America. Except he’s less likeable and much more crude.
But that man isn’t an apologetic like Obama. He’s not some Globalistic Goon who feels like WE are the bad guys on the world stage and owe the world an apology for being great. And Obama’s solution to that was to kick ourselves in the blue berries over and over while handing them the keys to our economy and relinquishing our position in the global stage to the likes of Russia and China, cause you know – their human rights violations are so much better than our supposed cultural racism.
Trump believes, rightfully so, that WE are the good guys. WE owe it to ourselves to look after ourselves first.
Unfortunately, while he’s kicking the crap out of the Leftist/Media/GOP Establishment Drago…. every once in a while he’ll punch himself in the face and knock himself down.
But he’s never knocked out.
He gets right back up, refusing to apologize for his actions, and moves forwards swinging into the pages of History.
(And like Rocky, sometimes you look at the guy and wonder if everything is okay with his brain…)
Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard ya hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now if you know what you’re worth then go out and get what you’re worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain’t where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that!
I’m always gonna love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You’re my son and you’re my blood. You’re the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, ya ain’t gonna have a life. – Rocky.