Glibertarians.com 2018 Archive

Category: Products You Need

  • BIF – Not just a guy from Back to the Future

    Not like this. They gotta catch me first.

    mexican sharpshooter has left the country temporarily, therefore he will cede the floor to Glibs participating in the BIF until he returns.

    By Nephilium

    Some of you may have seen my frequent posts about something called a BIF, and wondered what I was talking about. So, the participants in this most recent BIF have written up some blurbs so you can see what it’s all about (blame Yusef for the idea… Slainte Yusef!). First off, a BIF stands for Beer It Forward. The concept is you have a bunch of people who are interested in trying new beers sign up. Then you can either do a shotgun BIF (all participants ship to someone else at around the same time), or a chain BIF (a package wends its way through a list of participants, with people choosing someone off the list to ship to). The chain BIF can add a bit of excitement, as you never know when you’re getting a package, but it has the problem of long delays, and the possibility of the chain getting broken (life happens). So, for the two BIF’s I’ve ran here, they’ve been shotgun BIF’s.

    Each participant was asked to put together a package that contained between 72 – 90 ounces of local beers. Why 72 – 90 ounces? It allows for a six pack of 12 oz cans/bottles, or four 22 oz bombers. Swag was permitted, but not expected. Each person was asked for their address, and beer preferences, which were passed along to the person shipping to them. I then split the participants up (roughly) by region, and randomly assigned people to ship to a different region then the one they were in. So… without further ado, we’ll start with…

    Yusef, who Nephilium shipped to:

    I moved to Canon City Colorado in 1995, left my Wife behind to pack while I made Money and found a Home.It got boring so I went to the Library( they didn’t have Internet back then in Colorado) and found some books about Beer, not making it, but what types and styles, and why, etc. My First real craft Beer was a New Belgium Fat Tire Brown Ale, and I was Hooked.

    Not my photo, or Yusef’s

    Trappist Monk Ales, Scotch Ales, anything new and different. Came back to Shit Hole Land in 1998 and found `tons of great microbreweries and have enjoyed Good beer ever since.

    First off is a Sour Ale called Smiley faces from Platform Brewery, This Beer Stinks, Really, it smells of something God Awful yet tastes Delicious, Super Cloudy and Dense, 4/5

    Next is FatHeads Sunshine Daydream, a Session Ipa, Some Fruity notes, and a Nutty finish, 3.5/5, it keeps hanging on through my Drunkenness, +  Rammstein

    Next up, Hopping Frog Infusion A, Coffee Porter, 6.2%  Ambrosia in a glass, the Peanut Butter comes through before the Coffee, making for a Wonderful taste, and Thicc too, like I like my Women. 5/5 it’s that good.

    Habutuale was Disappointing, it’s a good Kolsch, and finishes with a bitterness that I like, so I guess it’s good, for a Kolsch, 3/5

    Bed Head Red, Sounds like me waking up, but instead is a solid, good drinker, nothing weird, and it doesn’t stink, a solid 4/5

    Sibling Revelry Blood Brood, Well, Cloud City is calling, they want there Beer back, It stinks, yet tastes very good, the Haze makes me wonder how I’ll Poop tomorrow, 3.7/5

    Thanks to Nephilium for putting this all together,

    SKOL!

  • 98 Mauser Sporting Rifles

    Mauser-Werke, Oberdorf, Germany

    The 98 Mauser Sporting Rifle

    The fame of the 98 Mauser action comes not only from its utility in military applications – where in its many incarnations it is without peer among military bolt guns – but also in its ability to cross over into being a basis for a fine custom sporting rifle.  Some of the greatest works of art in steel and wood to come out of the shops of fine rifle artisans are based on Mauser actions, with the 98 being the frontrunner.

    There are, however, a number of cautions and important considerations to take into account when gunsmithing the Mauser action.

    Pre-98 actions.

    M94 Swede sporter

    One of the most important safety notes involves the pre-98 actions.  Since this is a forum primarily for the 98, the pre-98s are somewhat off-topic, but the following safety tip is crucial:  Pre-98 actions, including the 91 Argentine, 93-95 Spanish, and 94-96 Swede actions, lack sufficient strength to be rebarreled for most modern sporting calibers.  These actions should only be rebarreled for cartridges developing a chamber pressure of 40.000 psi or less.  The difference between these actions and the 98 series is not metallurgical so much as structural – an excellent illustration and text can be found in Kuhnhausen’s Shop Manual for the Mauser[i].  It is best to stick with the cartridges for which these arms were originally chambered.

    98 Action Types

    The 98 actions, in all their variations, are a somewhat different and more complicated story.

    There are several different variations of the basic Model 98 action design; these can be loosely lumped into three categories.  These are the large ring standard 98, which the GEW98 and k98k actions are included in; the small ring 98 actions, to include the German 98az, G33/40, and the M1910 Mexican rifles; and the large ring “intermediate” actions, typified by the Yugo vz24.  Of course, thousands of minor variations exist, and addressing all those variations would be impossible in the space allowable here, so let’s stick to the standard large ring 98s, including the WWII German 98k actions.  For a complete description of every make, model and variation, I recommend picking up a copy of Ludwig Olson’s “Mauser Bolt Rifles,” pretty much the Bible for Mauser fans.

    The Bible for Mauser nuts.

    The 98k is, as mentioned previously, a standard large ring 98 action, (although some 98k pattern rifles were converted from small ring 98az carbines[ii]) and as such is one of the more versatile for customization.  Other common examples of the standard large ring 98 include the WWI GEW98, the 1908 Brazilian contract, built by Deutsche Waffen und Munitionsfabriken (DWM); the 1909 Argentine, also built by DWM; and the M1912 Mexican, built by Waffenfabrik Steyr.

    Metallurgy

    The military 98 Mauser actions differ quite a bit, metallurgically, from modern sporting rifle actions.

    To clarify a couple of terms; there are basically two manners in which a rifle receiver can fail.  The first is a “yield failure,” where the receiver ring may be deformed or “ballooned;” this type of failure frequently results in escaped gas and bits of cartridge case.

    The second type of action failure is an “ultimate failure” sometimes referred to as a “catastrophic failure.” This is where the action basically explodes, and results in chunks of receiver flying all over the place, to include imbedding themselves in the shooter’s face and other vital regions.

    Modern sporting actions (to include the newer FN and Zastava Mausers) are made from hard, high-carbon steel, and are homogenous throughout.  Older military Mausers are made from softer, low-carbon steel that is heat treated or “case hardened” resulting in a fairly soft receiver with a hard shell or “case.”

    The result of this type of construction is a receiver with lower yield strength than a modern gun, but a higher ultimate strength.

    What makes the large ring 98 action capable of handling higher pressures than the pre-98s is the design of the receiver ring.  The large ring 98 receiver ring measures 1.41” in diameter as opposed to the pre-98s 1.3”; also, the 98 action has a longer thread-bearing surface, improved torque bearing surfaces, and a large reinforcing web inside the receiver ring.

    It is generally considered that the standard large ring 98 action is capable of handling most modern standard-length sporting cartridges.[iii]

    Gunsmithing the 98 Mauser

    Now I’ll admit that I’ve never based a custom sporter on a WWII 98k action – because I’ve never found an “action grade” gun or disembodied 98k action in a condition suitable for “sporterizing.”  I have, however, used a variety of Mauser actions in building custom rifles, including a number of standard large ring 98s.

    It is somewhat sacrilegious to cut up an original collectible military rifle for customizing, and I’ve had a few originals in the rack at various times myself.  So, I try to buy disembodied actions where I can.  I will also scour gun shows, pawnshops, and estate sales for “action grade” guns – rifles that have already been modified to some extent, making them fair game for gunsmithing.

    From Olson – a disassembled 98 Mauser bolt

    To convert the military 98 action to “sporter” configuration involves four basic steps: 1) reforging or replacing the military bolt handle with one that will clear a low mounted scope; 2) install a low-swing or side-swing safety, again to clear the scope; 3) drill and tap for the scope mounts themselves; and 4) restocking.  Many excellent Mauser sporters have been turned out with the original barrel but given the condition of many surplus guns currently finding their way into the States, rebarreling sometimes becomes a necessity.

    With a bit of luck, you can find a Mauser action or barreled action with the gunsmithing work already done.

    A good example would be a rifle I built for my own use elk hunting.  I’ve described Thunder Speaker here before; it is a 1908 Brazilian contract action, built by DWM, chambered for the .338 Winchester Magnum.  My original intent was to use one of the large ring ’98 actions I had in the shop, fit a new barrel, stock, bolt handle, etc., which would have entailed no small expense.  The expense of this sort of work can easily outrun the cost of a brand-spanking-new Remington 700 or Winchester 70.

    In my case, fate chose to intervene at the August 1996 Tanner Gun Show in Denver, back when once could still make good deals in Colorado gun shows.

    While sitting at my table, trying in vain to part with a few of my surplus stuff, a gentleman walked by with a rifle slung over his shoulder, the sign on it reading: “Mauser rifle, .338 Win Mag.”

    Like a trout faced with a well-placed dry fly, I rose to the bait.

    The rifle was the aforementioned 1908 Brazilian (large ring 98) action, with a teardrop bolt handle, Buehler safety and Weaver bases. The 26″ Douglas heavy sporter contour barrel was Mag-Na-Ported, a plus when you are talking about .338 Mag recoil levels.

    Since the barreled action was already in good shape, I made few changes – I just replaced the military two-stage trigger with a Bold modular, added a Bell & Carlson Kevlar stock and a Simmons Aetec 2.5-10X scope on Redfield bases and rings, which I prefer to the Weaver design on rifles with stout recoil.  I loaded up some ammo with W-W brass and 225-grain Barnes X boattails.

    The first trip to the range was enlightening.  Between the Mag-Na-Porting, and the straight-line design of the Bell & Carlson stock, the .338 didn’t seem to have any more perceived recoil than a lightweight .308.  Very pleasant to shoot; I ran through all 20 rounds I had loaded before I realized it.  Even more pleasant were the results on the other end of the lane; groups averaged about 1 1/4″, with the largest going just over 2″.  The Simmons Aetec scope proved superb, very bright and clear.

    From Olson – An FN 98 Mauser action

    Cost vs. Benefit

    When the project was completed, I had a high quality .338 Win Mag sporter with a total investment of about $500 – pretty much what I’d have paid for a new commercial gun in 1996, without the scope, dies or accessories.

    Thunder Speaker is a pretty good example of the kind of “custom” work that any reasonably capable gun crank can do by him or herself – no rebarreling or action modification involved, as that work was already done.  These kinds of project guns are readily available, often at bargain prices.  I’ve since spent a little bit more to have a Winchester-style side-swing safety mounted, as the Buehler was too close to the scope objective when set to Safe.

    Cost isn’t all that the true gun crank considers, however, and the chance to take game or gather ooh’s and aah’s at the range with a unique sporting arm of one’s own making, will often outweigh mere financial concerns.  I know it does for me.

    Inspecting the 98 action

    When considering an action for extensive gunsmithing, the prospective custom Waffenmeister should inspect the following areas closely:

    • The bolt face should be clean and free of pitting and erosion.
    • The extractor should fit tightly and function correctly with a dummy cartridge of the appropriate caliber.
    • The locking lugs should be clean, rust-free, and show minimal wear.
    • Cocking piece/sear engagement should function smoothly and flawlessly – ditto for the safety.
    • Ejector box should have good spring tension and function freely.
    • If the original barrel is to be used, the bore should be clean and free of rust and pitting.
    • Visually inspect the entire action for rust and/or pitting. I’ve seen a few actions for sale that were pitted badly enough to be potentially dangerous.
    • If the action has been drilled and tapped for scope mounts, ensure the screw holes are not in the area of the barrel threads or reinforcing web.

    The action should also pass the following standard function check.

    • Close the bolt and apply the safety.
    • Pull the trigger. Nothing should happen.
    • Without operating the bolt, turn safety to “fire.” The sear should remain engaged.  If the striker falls when the safety is disengaged, you have a serious safety problem.
    • If the sear remained properly engaged in Step 3, pull the trigger. The striker should fall normally.  The trigger pull should not be gritty or stiff.

    If the action passes all of these tests, it should be a good candidate for your custom project.

    Gunsmithing Do’s and Don’ts.

    Do’s:

    • Have your action or barreled action inspected by a professional gunsmith prior to any customizing. If you are using the barrel already on the gun, the inspection should include headspacing.
    • When rebarreling, invest in a quality barrel. The barrel is the heart of a rifle, and a quality tube from Douglas, Shilen or ER Shaw will be worth the extra bucks.
    • True action and bolt faces and lap locking lugs. This process evens bearing surfaces and improves inherent accuracy.
    • Use an aftermarket modular trigger if desired. I’ve had excellent results from Timney, Bold and Dayton Traister triggers.  Keplinger makes a very good single-set trigger for the 98 Mauser, which does require professional installation.

    Don’t:

    • Open the feed ramp to allow feeding of .300/.375 H&H, or full-length magnum cartridges. This removes metal from the area immediately behind the lower locking lug – not a good practice.[iv]
    • Trust chamber stamps on used guns. A Cerrosafe chamber mold should be done on any and all used guns.
    • Fire any rifle with an improperly functioning safety mechanism.
    • Fire any 7.9x57mm Mauser manufactured prior to 1905 without first miking the barrel. A few J-bore (.311) guns are still extant – and may generate dangerous pressures if fired with S-bore (.323) cartridges.

    And finally – please – don’t cut up or modify an original collectible!  There are ample action grade guns around, and also ample collectors who will be willing to take your original off your hands.

    The 21st Century Mauser

    It’s often said “the more things change, the more they stay the same,” and this certainly applies to rifle design – given Winchester’s and other gunmakers run back to the original controlled feed design of the 98 Mauser.  Paul Mauser’s M98 has set the standard by which all other bolt action rifles are measured for 120 years now.  I’m confident that it will continue to be the gold standard of bolt guns well into this century.

    [i] “The Mauser M91 Through M98 Bolt Actions – A Shop Manual.”  Kuhnhausen, Jerry, 1991, VSP Publishers, pg. 160

    [ii] “Mauser Bolt Rifles”  Olson, Ludwig, 1976, F. Brownell & Son, pg. 118

    [iii] Kuhnhausen, pg. 86

    [iv] Ibid., pg. 86.

  • Pinky Out! The Fancy Beer Challenge — Part 2

    Swiss decided to challenge me again.  This time instead of the worst possible beer I could get my hands on I was to locate the absolute snootiest of snooty beer.  Unfortunately, I might have painted myself into a corner with the deadline in this one. I told him I would have it finished before the Beer it Forward piece.

    This might have been my fault.

    Up first was the second most interesting thing I could find at AJ’s, a local high-end grocer.  By high end grocer I mean in the same neighborhood as a Catholic high school with yoga pants wearing Catholic schoolgirl types.  Why the second most interesting? The most
    interesting thing was barrel aged Old Rasputin and quite frankly I already did an article on that one.  The best part was I actually wrote that one at work (Rufus).

    This one to put it bluntly is quite good.  It reminds me a lot of a Belgian quadrupel ale with a lot of spices we typically associate with fall.  I would probably enjoy it more if it wasn’t 115 degrees. Still, I give The Brurey Autumn Maple a solid 4 pinky’s out of 5

    I woke up with a splitting headache.  Slightly nauseated. Loss of appetite.

    “You’re not hungover.” Sugarfree said. He had settled himself in a lotus position on top of a rock conveniently placed in the sun.  A small mirror was in the dirt with grayish black powder strewn about its surface. He appeared to be meditating but when most people do that they normally aren’t twisting their nipples.  I hesitated to ask why he felt the need to do this naked.

    Quite frankly I didn’t want to know.

    I noticed a small pile of spent 5.56 NATO ammunition near our campground.  Next to Sugarfree’s meditating rock I found more empty cartridges along with their corresponding projectiles.  They looked like they had been pulled out using teeth as a vice.

    “What happened last night?”  I asked.

    “STEVE SMITH HAPPENED.”  Sugarfree replied.

    “I gathered that.”  I said. Sheepishly examining my ass.  Nothing out of the ordinary there.

    “You shot him six times.  It left a convenient trail for us to follow.”  Sugarfree explained. He opened his eyes. You did the worst thing you could possibly do to STEVE SMITH.”

    “…shoot him?”

    “You frustrated him.”

    “Oh…goody.”

    “That’s why I took the pews from your assault pew pew thingy and snorted the pew powder inside.”

    “Of course you did…did you do that with all 210 rounds I had?”

    Sugarfree stood atop his rock, turned around and bent over.  He let out a hearty cough while coming to a squat.  The procedure allowed me to infer he ate at few bullets.

    “37.”  He answered.  It then occurred to me I could’ve just checked my bag to see if he stole all my ammunition.  “I got full.”

    *Honk* *Honk* *Honk*

    “What the hell?”  I asked. Looking down the trail I noticed a plume of dirt approaching us quickly.

    “This just got better.”  Sugarfree explained. “He found us!”

    “Who found us?”

    A Subaru Forester came to a abrupt stop in front of our campground.  A skinny hipster wearing a dirty, vintage t-shirt and skinny jeans stepped out.  He turned and looked in Sugarfree’s direction but stopped abruptly.

    “Did any of you guys call an Uber?” He asked.

    “In the middle of the woods?”  I was confused.

    “Oh okay.  He told me you’d ask me that.” The hipster said.

    I noticed he was still behind the door.

    “Who told you that?”  I asked, still confused.

    “The man who gave me this.”  The hipster reached into the Subaru and pulled out a box.  In his haste, he
    revealed he had a bloody stump, wrapped with a linen dressing.

    “What happened to you?”  I asked.

    “He told me you would need a hand.” The Uber driver curled up into a fetal position and began to cry uncontrollably.  I opened the box to find a soft, white hand still holding an iPhone inside a red, silicone case with a white cross.

    “Judas Titty Fucking Priest.”  I said out loud, to myself.

    “He told me…you’d…say that too.” The Uber driver managed to get out between sobs.

    Sugarfree drummed a catchy tune across his stomach then twiddled his fingers in the air.  “Narrowed gaze…”

    The phone then began ringing in the classic bluegrass ringtone.

    _____

    “Hi, this is Anna with Swiss Corpse International Industries, how are you today?”  Swiss got a new receptionist. This one was particularly bubbly.

    “It’s pronounced core…”. I said flatly.

    “Please hold, I’m going to try to patch you through…I’m still learning this so in case we get disconnected call 312–“

    “No!  Don’t you fucking do it, do not give out his number! HE WILL MURDER YOU!”

    “Connecting you now.”  Swiss always has the sweetest receptionists.  It’s terrible he could never find one that meets the Swiss standard of perfection.

    “…Damnit mex.  You have any idea the pickle you have me in?”  Swiss was yelling, I pulled the phone away from my ear, slightly.

    “I’m in the woods with Sugarfree, and he lost his pants.  Do tell me how your date with the Uber driver went…did he give a reach around?”  I turned to check on Sugarfree, and found that he had gathered a number of small rocks arranged into a circle.

    “No.  Why do you think I told him to give you a handy?”  The fucker had me cornered.

    “Fine.  Go.” I said.  Sugarfree had gathered a surprising amount of kindling.

    “You have any idea how long you two have been out there?”

    “No, but I bet your watch has a date complication that confirms how long I’ve been gone.”

    “You’re damn right it does.  Without a date complication a Rolex Datejust is just a ‘just’ now isn’t it?”  For a guy that hates puns and the people that make them, he was on a roll.  Even if that one was terrible. “I didn’t think this ‘ass-dog’ thing would be such an issue for you.  So you need to get something straight….”

    Swiss was gonna straighten me out.

    “Okay…”

    “I just found the most awesome watering hole.”

    “Okay…”  I said as I noticed Sugarfree got a small fire going.

    “You should see the chick that works there.”

    “Okay…”

    “Okay?  She has an unbelievable ass.”

    “Okay…”

    “Don’t ruin this for me!”

    “Okay…sorry…?”  I gave Sugarfree an inquisitive look.  He began to examine the Uber driver’s hand.

    “You should be sorry, now I’m down three posters this week.  I’m sending Warty your way.”

    “Warty!”  Sugarfree started jumping up and down, clapping with the Uber driver’s severed hand.  I turned away since I rather not see his junk bouncing along with him.

    “What?  Why? I have this Tiny-ass Dog thing down.”  I tried my best to be confident.

    “Bullshit.  You have any idea what the commenters said last week?  We had them bitching about random shit from jezebel and jihadwatch.  Then they started to Gilmore threads on corrupted titty-links. You have any idea what happens if you don’t channel the Saturday day drinking rage towards something that’s tangentially related to beer?”

    “…..no.”  If said yes, I feared he’d send me another hipster that would be paid to cut his own heart out and eat it in front of me.  At this point Sugarfree had the Uber driver’s hand on a spit over the fire.

    “Warty is of approximate size to STEVE SMITH.  You have the best tracker, and the best possible deterrent.  Make.This.Happen.” The call was over as quickly as it started.

    “What are you doing?” I asked Sugarfree.

    “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”  Sugarfree replied.

    “I have a granola bar in my bag….” I lied.  I ran out of food several days ago, and if I had any I wasn’t about to give any to Sugarfree.

    “I can’t eat that.  I’ve totally gone Keto.”  He turned the hand over. “Sugarfree isn’t just some moniker, it’s a lifestyle.”

    _____

    We followed the blood trail.  Sugarfree was right, and since I did get a few hits it was much easier to track STEVE SMITH.  The only problem was the drops became fewer and fewer, as if he had some kind of magical healing ability.

    “He has a magical healing ability.”  Sugarfree said.  He really needs to get out of my head.  “It makes him hard to track.”

    “Seriously, you need to stop doing that.  I don’t know how I think of something and then you immediately answer me back with a relevant response.”  I said.

    “I hear voices.  Sometimes they sound like you.  Other times they are just voices.” Sugarfree replied back ominously.

    “Are you hearing any others?”

    “Just yours.”

    A soft rustling in the bushes ahead got the attention of the two of us.  I couldn’t make out what was behind it.

    “STEVE.”  I asked.  “Look we need to talk…man.  I’m not trying to hunt you or your kin.”  I flipped the safety off.  “I just want the tiny ass dog back.”

    More rustling came from behind us.  I pivoted around in a low ready stance while Sugarfree kept spinning with his arms in the air.

    “Lets be reasonable STEVE.”  I knew there was nothing reasonable about that request.

    “Look.  If you shoot me. I’m going to have to break you, and I’d rather not do that, but I will if I have to.  You already made me miss my short workout for today, and I need to make up for it.”  The voice in the bushes responded.

    “WARTY!!”  Sugarfree started jumping up and down clapping.  Thankfully he found his pants a mile back.

    “Wait, you’re Warty?”  I asked.  That can’t be Warty.  This was a guy dressed like a Victorian-era explorer, monacle and everything.  “I was expecting somebody–”

    “Bigger?”  He asked.

    “Yes.  Bigger, balder, looks like he’s seen the inside of a gym.”

    “Its just my disguise.”  Warty explained.  “Sugarfree and I go a long ways back in tracking STEVE SMITH; going back years.  He’s not the type that will approach unless he thinks he has the upper hand.  He’s been lethal as early as eight months, and I do mean lethal. I’ve hunted most things that can hunt you, but the way he moves…”

    “He’s fast.”  Sugarfree interjected.  He began doing a dance reminiscent of the TechnoViking.

    “Cheetah speed. Fifty, sixty miles an hour if he ever gets out into the open, and he’s an astonishing jumper…”  Warty continued.

    “I’ve heard this somewhere before.”  I said.

    “He shows extreme intelligence, even problem-solving intelligence.  That one… when he looks at you, you can see he’s working things out. That’s why we had to feed him like that. He was attacking the fences when the feeders came…”

    “Like an electric fence?”  I asked.

    “That’s right, but he never attacks the same place twice. He was testing the fences for weaknesses, systematically. He remembers…”  Warty didn’t come up with this line.  He got that from somewhere.

    “He totally got that from Jurassic Park.”  Sugarfree did it again.

    “I told you to stop doing that.”

    “Stop what?”  Warty asked.

    “He does this thing where I think of something, and he responds to what I am thinking with an eerily appropriate response.”  I replied.  “GET OUT OF MY HEAD.”

    “Yeah, he does that.  You get used to it.”

    “The mind reading bit?  I’m supposed to get used to that?”

    “Don’t think of it as Sugarfree listening to your thoughts.  Its more like breaking the fourth wall, except the wall is your head, and you’re his audience.”  Warty explained.  “And his purpose is to use your thoughts to terrify you.”

    “What?”

    “It doesn’t matter.”  Warty said, working the massive bolt on his Holland and Holland “Bolt Action Magazine” rifle chambered in .375H&H.  “We have a sasquatch to find.”  He began waking quietly down the trail.

    “Dog.  We’re finding my little ass dog.”  I said.

    “Sasquatch.”

    _____

    “Sugarfree.  Quiet down.”  Warty said quietly.

    Darkness had fallen.  We were peeking over the edge of a berm.  I could just barely make out the form of the little dog under a bush.

    “If I make a break for it, I bet I can grab it and go.”  I whispered.

    “We can’t.”  Warty whispered back.

    “Why not?”

    “We’re being hunted….”  Warty whispered ominously.  Sweat began to bead across his brow as he flexed the massive muscles that worked his jaw.  His disguise was fading.  He turned quickly to me.  “GO!”

    Sugarfree made a break for it.  “AYE YA YIE!”

    “Not you!  Damnit.”  Warty said.

    We both turned and saw it….

    “Clever girl…..”  Warty whispered.  The cat slowly began to walk towards us, contemplating which one of us was easier to eat.

     

    STEVE SMITH LIKE NICE KITTY.  STEVE SMITH TAKE NICE KITTY HOME.  BY TAKE NICE KITTY HOME….

    The mountain lion struggled against STEVE SMITH’S massive, hairy arms and his massive hug.  It screeched like a housecat that got caught under a wheel well in the winter when it gets cold out and it wants to get warm from proximity to the engine.

    OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH

    “This is messed up.  Let’s just get the dog and go.”  Warty said.

    _____

    We celebrated later at a hotel and discovered they had Alesmith Speedway Stout on hand.  It was a fantastic imperial stout that rounded out our evenings with intense notes of chocolate and coffee.   I gave it a solid 4.5 pinkies out of 5.  I then considered something doesn’t add up, as a hotel probably wouldn’t have this sort of thing on hand.

    “It’s only a plot hole if you don’t acknowledge the existence of the plot hole.”  Sugarfree said.

    “I told you to stop doing that.”

     

     

  • Pinky out! The Fancy Beer Challenge – Part 1

    So…Last time, we suffered through the Bum Beer Challenge – seen here and here (Personally, I think mexican sharpshooter got the worst of it…even if his writing was much better than mine). This time the challenge was in the opposite direction. We wanted to find something so fancy that even a libertarian would sprain their pinky, holding it out as they sampled it. Their monocle would fog up and their top hat would deflate, it would be that highbrow.

    This did get me to wondering about the pinky out thing…is that really fancy, or just some made up bit that managed to worm its way into common belief?

    Still funny.

    This source says:

    People often think proper tea drinking means sticking your pinky out. That’s actually rude and connotes elitism. It comes from the fact that cultured people would eat their tea goodies with three fingers and commoners would hold the treats with all five fingers. Thus was born the misguided belief that one should raise their pinky finger to show they were cultured. Tuck that pinky finger in.

    “That’s actually rude and connotes elitism” AWW YEAH! PERFECT! We are spot on here.

    So, anyhoo, here is my entry into the Snob-off o’ beer.

     

    3 Sheeps Brewing Company hails from the noted center of culture that is Sheboygan, Wisconsin. But don’t let that fool you…they make classy beer. The best. Bigly good beer. I chose their fanciest:

    Awwww, yeah!

    SMALL BATCH: CUVEE BLEND

    We make a lot of beer. Some of it experimental, some of it pushes the boundaries of brewing, some of it puts unique twists on traditional styles — but it’s all a part of who we are. Once a year we step back, take a look at the work we’ve done, and create a special beer that draws from the best of the past 12 months. We call it Cuvee Blend. It’s a nod to the French winemaking tradition, a blend of aged beers from specially selected barrels, each chosen for their unique wood characteristics and blended in endless combinations until our palates are happy. Once we’re sure it’s perfect, the blend goes into another barrel to undergo secondary fermentation. The process is time consuming and meticulous, but we end up with something really special, something that’s more than just the sum of its parts.

    Yeah, sounds fancy to me. So what is the blend for 2018?

    19% imp stout aged in 2nd use rye whiskey barrels. 50% imp stout with toasted coconut aged in 2nd use bourbon barrels. 25% imp black wheat with coffee aged in 2nd use bourbon barrels. 6% belgian-style quad aged in 2nd use bourbon barrels.

    Now that is fancy!

    A snobby description can be found here.

    Mine own impression was that each aspect of it came forth, caressed your taste buds and bowed out for the next. The bourbon hovered in the background shepherding all this along. The coconut was quite subtle, the coffee not overpowering – it simply introduced itself, gave you a bit flavor and yielded to the rye. The rye was courtly in manner, taking your taste buds, bowing over them and stepping back to let the hint of Belgian quad finish off with a whisper.

    In lay terms…Jeebus, this was a fookin’ great beer. All sorts of good flavors, packs a good ABV too. Would swill again!

    But in all seriousness, it was one of the best beers I have had in my 52 years on this Earth.

    5 out of 5 pinkies out.

     

    Next up, Part 2, wherein mexican sharpshooter gets his fancy on.

  • A Tasting of Taliskers

    I love the Waters of Life.  I’ve never had a Japanese whiskey, but I’ve thoroughly enjoyed those from our neighbors to the north, from the Emerald Isle, and of course from here at home.  America truly makes a world-class product.  Having said all of that, there really can’t be any doubt that the king of beverages comes from that tiny scrap of barbarian-infested wasteland on the other side of Hadrian’s Wall.  It is truly the drink of philosophers.

    See those Taliskers at the left? That will be relevant shortly.
    Most of my Scotch Supply as of June 11 2018

    Tonight, I will be trying two offerings from my favorite distiller, and placing them in context with those with which I am already familiar.

    Notice how the bottles on the right are larger -- to take advantage of tax laws, the bottles purchased at the Duty-Free shop are 1000mL. Also, the prices at the I87 border crossing shop are better than the Ogdenburg crossing store.
    Our guests of honor for this evening, from left to right: Talisker 10 Year, Storm, Dark Storm, Skye, and 57 degrees North

    For accompaniments, I have bread (an awful hippie spelt sourdough), cheese (Chaseholm Farms “Moonlight” and North Country Creamery “Feta” (which completely isn’t), chocolate (Ghiradelli 72%) and water (Saratoga County Water District “Tap”).  I will also be starting with Johnnie Walker Black to use as a control and palate reset.

    My tasting notes probably aren’t going to be very helpful for a couple of reasons.  First, I lack the vocabulary of a professional taster.  This isn’t that important, because nobody else on here does, either.  The other problem is I suffer from a slight sense of synesthesia which becomes rather overwhelming when I focus intently on taste or smell.  So my experience when comparing Dark Storm with 10 year is that the horizontal amber lines of the 10 year become thicker and further apart in the Dark storm, and charcoal arcs appear next to them.  This may be the least helpful comparison made on glibertarians.com yet.  I’ll avoid any references to geometry, color or sound in my description and hopefully someone will find this interesting.

    Yeah, I don't see any difference either. But these things always show pictures of the booze in a glass.
    Down from upper left: 57 Degrees north, Skye, control, Dark Storm, Storm, 10 Year.

    If not, I’m still going to be drinking some scotch, so… win.

    All of these will be taken neat as God intended, with the possible exception of the 57 Degrees North, which is bottled at 114 proof.  That might get a splash after the initial taste.

    Enough pittle-pattle. On with the tipple!  *Drinks control*  Yup, that’s what yer basic Highland scotch tastes like.

    Talisker 10 Year: Oh goddamn this is delicious.  Mild, gentle, not very sweet, a little spice, a little smoke, a tiny hint of iodine.  No phenols coming up into the nose, a smidge of a tingle around the sides of the tongue.  *Ponders how wonderful life is now Talisker’s in the world*

    Ok, that golden moment of satisfaction has passed.  What else is here?  Talisker Storm: A lot more iodine on the nose, but not so much in the mouth.  Sweeter.  Sharper.  More of a bite, more of the bourbon barrel taste.  This would be really good with some chocolate. *Has some chocolate.* OMG.  I don’t know why exactly my mouth is warmer, but that chocolate instantly melts, coating my tongue with sweet love but letting the whisky shine through.  Another drink makes it shinier.  Shiiiny.  Better than the 10 Year?  …maybe.  Different.  Diminishing returns kick in hard when it comes to scotch, and Talisker suffers from it particularly with their base product being so good.  Sooo goood.

    Talisker Dark Storm:  This is more closely related to the 10 Year than the Storm was.  It’s very like the distillers took the 10 Year and turned up the volume.  I prefer it to the Storm. *Has a slice of cheese.*  Sweet mamajama.  I’ve gotten enough booze in me that food is tasting delicious.  I want to refill this glass, but I have two  more to taste.

    I’ve had those three before [but never done a side-by-side with the Storm and Dark Storm to convince me which I should preferentially stock (Dark Storm)].  These next two are new to me.

    Talisker Skye:  I’m confused.  I’m not tasting very much.  Maybe it’s aftereffects from the cheese?  I’ll eat some bread.  *Eats bread.* That’s really shitty bread.  Nope, not much here.  It’s less like a Talisker and more like a really flavorful Irish whiskey.  I am disappointed.  This bottle will remain around to offer to guests, but I won’t be drinking much of it.  Orrrr, maybe I’ve drunk too much and it’s killing my taste response.  *Goes back to Q’s links.*  That still works.  Well, obviously in the future I’ll need to taste this earlier in the session to make sure.

    Talisker 57 Degrees North:  This is the most expensive bottle I’ve acquired at the duty-free.  Between the fact that it’s a third larger than standard liquor store bottles and I paid for it in CAD, it’s probably not the most expensive bottle of scotch I’ve ever bought, but it’s up there.  It fucking better be good.  Holding it up to my nose is making me a little more reassured that I haven’t overdrunk my nose at least.  I’m getting definite notes of… SweeTarts. Now I’m going to have to go back to the lab and see if I have any stearic or maleic acids lying around.  I know I’ve got citric, but that’s not what I’m smelling.  First sip.  Oh.  Wow.  Yeah.  Taste buds still work.  Also, 114 proof is a bit saliva-activating.  Lemme do the math:  114/80 = I have to increase the volume by about 40%.  No wait, first let me taste it and see what I can find when it’s neat.  Ok, trying again.  It’s pretty good.  Extremely smooth, low phenols, slightly sweet, but at this strength there is a noticeable anesthetic effect kicking in after about 2-3 seconds.  Gotta get a spoon to make the dilution work.  Also, there’s not enough left in the glass, need a refill.

    Ok, going to get the spoon revealed to me that I might be a wee bit more intoxicated that I had planned.  Also tasting the control whisky proved that yes, my taste buds aren’t working properly.  So it’s a bit of a moot point to continue.  Having said all of that, adding water to get the 57 degrees North to about 80 proof really did open it up.  There’s a lot more happening there now, and in the future I’ll try again without the preliminary drinks to get a true appreciation of it.  I’ll also retry the Skye, though I don’t think it’s going to be particularly salvageable.

    Until then…

     

     

  • Sense of Decency

    Back in the day it was determined that certain things brought people together. When enough people in a small group unite for common cause, one might just call them a team. Under most circumstances, teams are a good thing, but what is it they are uniting under?

    A pin-up girl.

    This is my review of Auburn Alehouse Pu240 Imperial IPA.

    In 1944 the US Army Air Corps aircrew under Regulation 35-22, were allowed to decorate their aircraft with nose art, so long as they were done so with a “sense of decency.” This was done in contrast with the US Navy/Marines, who did not allow nose art at the time. The Air Corps allowed it because such images raised morale.

    Nose art does not necessarily mean only pin-up girls. This is really a continuation of a tradition some believe date to the Greeks painting eyes on their Triemes. The German Luftwaffe was believed to be the first to paint the iconic shark mouth on Bf. 110. This lead to the Royal Air Force copying them, and finally the First American Volunteer Group—better known as the Flying Tigers. The US. Air Force to this day pays homage to these aviators with the A-10. Another example is aircrews using cartoon characters such as Donald Duck, to decorate their planes.

    That said, we just remember the pin-up girls. Aircrews in the Pacific Theater took advantage of their lower public profile and often had art that pushed the bounds of the decency rule, such as Butterfly Baby but the most famous planes in that part of the world had no girls at all.  This in contrast with planes such as Memphis Belle from the Mighty 8th AF in England were a bit more understated.  So…here you go.

    [Insert Tail Gunner Joke Here]

    Thankfully, Auburn makes an IPA that lives up to their artwork. If you are a fan of this style, or you are the type that like to drink exactly one beer over the course of hours, this one is a good call. Good body, pungent hop aroma and a healthy abv. Auburn Alehouse Pu240 Imperial IPA: 3.8/5.

  • How Bout a Cold Brew?

    Sorry for the clickbait, but I know what sells around here. Now if you came here today expecting to read about beer and are going to click off because this is about coffee, stay for just a minute. About a month ago, a coworker noted how much coffee I drink, which started a conversation about how little she drinks. “It’s just so bitter.” I explained the virtues of the cold brew method and this past week she told me how it completely changed her view on coffee. Every time she makes a cup she waits for the bitter bite but it never comes and is now drinking more coffee than ever. So stick with me if you think coffee is too bitter as we explore what cold brew coffee is and how you can make it at home.

    So what is cold brew coffee? Is it just another hipster fad to sell expensive coffee to basement dwellers? Well, yes and no. I know hipsters get a lot of flak here, but they have pushed the boundaries of good food and drink. CB coffee does have some chemistry to back up the hype of superior coffee in the cup. Some people are under the impression that CB coffee is just cold coffee. Although you can serve cold brew coffee over ice, you can also serve it hot, in coffee based drinks or use it for cooking. What makes cold brew cold is the brewing process, not the way it is served. Cold brewing extracts coffee at a lower temperature over a longer period of time. The real magic that the CB process brings is lower tannic acid. Tannic acid is responsible for the bitter/burnt flavor some people find off putting in coffee. Cold brewing also extract less caffeine, although it is not “caffeine free”. Less caffeine and less acid mean less stress on the stomach and a smoother, sweeter cup. Interested in trying it yourself? Read on friend.

    To make your very own cold brew at home you will need a cold brew coffee maker, obviously. Now before you say “Florida Man, I just blew my last paycheck on Blue Mountain Jamaican and a conical burr grinder,” take a breath. A decent cold brew system can be had for 15-20 bucks. I don’t know what that is in shekels so OMWC will have to do his own conversion. A cold brew coffee maker consist of a tube filter inside of a pitcher. The process is simple and pretty much fool proof. You’ll want to stick with a coarse grind, because it will give you a cleaner finished product and a fine grind will heat the coffee defeating the whole purpose. If you haven’t bought a conical burr grinder yet, fear not. Most specialty coffee shops and grocery stores will grind your whole been coffee to order. I would also suggest looking for a medium roast bean if you are trying to avoid that burnt taste. If you want even lower caffeine content, select a dark roast. Now that you have your coarse ground beans, simply fill the filter with ground coffee and fill the pitcher with filtered water. Some people use room temperature water and leave it to brew on the counter for 24-48 hours. I use cold water and let it brew in the fridge for 48 hours. Try it both ways and see what works for you. After the 24-48 hours you remove the center filter and now have a concentrated smooth, low acid coffee. “Now what, Florida Man?” Glad you asked.

    If you want a regular cup of Joe, just add hot water to your cold coffee concentrate. I fill half my mug with CBC and top it off with hot water. Add cream and sugar to taste. If you enjoy cold drinks, pour over ice, add cold water or cream and sugar to taste. I don’t make specialty coffee drinks, but if you do, just remember that this coffee is concentrated and make adjustments accordingly. Feel free to post recipes in the comments for drinks, desserts or even cooking with coffee. So on to the pros and cons of this system.

    Pro:
    Taste: Smooth, sweet coffee
    Reduced Acid: for those with sensitive tummies (lower caffeine)
    Convenient: you don’t have to baby sit this while it brews.
    Cost: The system is cheap.
    Clean up: Carafe does double duty, less to wash

    Con:
    Taste: Hey wait! Yes I put it in both pro & con. Some people like bitter (see IPA drinkers)
    Inefficient: The coffee to water ratio is higher than hot brew systems.
    Time: You can’t make a quick cold brew. You need to plan 24 hours in advance.
    Flexibility: This could be a pro. There are less variable with cold brew. You can adjust grind and steep time, but that is about it.

    Because of the warm response I received for my last article, I have invested my hard earned dollars in not one, but seven brew methods. I’ll write up a “how to” for the others with my famous pro/con opinions. Then, for a grand finale, I plan to do a blind taste test and crown a winner for best brew method. If you have any questions let me know in the comment section.

  • I Don’t Like These People; Here’s Why!

    Really?

    Virtue signaling…it’s everywhere isn’t it? At first it wasn’t that irritating, because it was easily ignored. The only people doing it were the usual suspects that would go away when their 15 minutes of fame were up. Then Twitter came along and verified how much everybody is stupid—except for you. It drives people to drink. Then the booze merchants had to get in on the act.

    I promised myself that when I finally found this I would take it out to the desert and shoot it. Sadly, it was more expensive than I anticipated so I decided I needed to get back at Stone. How can I do it if don’t have a Twitter account?

    This is my review of Budweiser Freedom Reserve Lager (limited release).

    I figure the best way to stick it to them is to leave it on the shelf and buy something else that doesn’t suit Stone’s standard of “independentness.” Even if Budweisser is technically virtue signaling with this one, at least its one I can get behind. For the astonishing price of $16.99 for a dirty dozen, Budweiser will donate a percentage of the proceeds to Folds of Honor, a Veteran’s charity.

    The problem I have with a lot of Veterans charities is how many of them, to put it bluntly: suck. Turns out Veterans like any other seemingly disadvantaged group are used to prey on the compassion of others. In fairness, if somebody wants to donate money, so long as everything is voluntary it is perfectly acceptable for a well meaning individual to do so.

    The most well known example of such a charity is the Wounded Warrior Project. To put it politely: they suck ass.  Given their celebrity endorsements, merchandising, being schilled by Bill O’Reilly every night for ten years, and their extensive marketing campaign it should be no surprise they have a high overhead. I would find it acceptable if that was the only questionable thing they were spending their donations on. TW: NY Times. Except it wasn’t; they were actually paying their executives $½ million salaries and hosting events at five star hotels. It got to the point where Charity Navigator gave them a D rating after they spent 40% of their revenue on overhead. They got better, but for many it’s too little too late. Then there are other scheisters who will use their well-known name to enrich themselves.

    Brand new spinter vans cost money, yo.

    They’re not the only ones, even DAV got a poor rating. This one is my personal favorite, run by a VA employee.

    One I do like is Pat Tillman Foundation.  I’ve participated in one of their events called Pat’s Run, where Arizona State hosts a 4.2 mile long run around Tempe Town Lake and ending at Sun Devil Stadium. Why the odd distance?  He was number 42 at Arizona State.  Its a scholarship fund.

    Folds of Honor seems legitimate enough to me, they too are a scholarship fund.

    About this beer:  if you are leaving it on the shelf because you think it’s going to suck—it might surprise you. It’s a malty red lager based on a recipe recovered at Mount Vernon. Obviously, it’s different due to Washington predating lagers. My only complaint is it could use a bit more body but to be completely honest, this one doesn’t suck. Budweiser Freedom Reserve Lager (limited release): 3/5

  • The Western Game Rifle

    Rifles for the West

    Bolt guns kind of own the outdoor rifle scene west of the Mississippi.  Here in Colorado during the general rifle deer/elk seasons, probably 75-80% of the rifles you see are bolt guns.  So, let’s look at those first, then we’ll come around to some other options.  And there are other options; here’s a teaser, “Browning Automatic Rifle” doesn’t always refer to the WW2-era squad automatic rifle.

    So, why bolt guns?  They are simple, strong and accurate.  Bolt guns will easily accommodate the most powerful hunting cartridges.  Their stiffness and solid lockup increases accuracy, a key consideration in the West’s open country where 200 to 300-yard shots are not unusual.  They are easy to maintain, easy to field-strip, easy to clean and easy to use.

    A nice Colorado meat buck.

    Bolt guns are also handy in that they have one feature shared by few other action types, save single-shots:  You can remove the bolt without tools and access the entire length of the barrel.  That’s handy for clearing blockages or just running an oiled patch through the barrel after a day out in rain or snow.

    There are too many bolt rifles for sale today to go into brands, but there are a few things to think about when looking for a good bolt gun:

    • Controlled-feed vs. push-feed. This is largely a matter of personal preference.  Controlled-feed guns, like the Mauser, have a large claw extractor that picks up the next round from the magazine and holds it in place while the bolt moves into battery.  Push-feed guns, like the Remington 700, are just like they sound, simply pushing the round ahead of the bolt into the chamber.  Controlled-feed advocates make a case for reliability of feed, although in a lot of those guns you can’t drop one round into the gun and close the bolt; the round has top be picked up from the magazine.  But this is mostly a matter of preference.
    • If you are looking at a rifle built on a surplus Mauser or other military action, most of those won’t have a hinged floorplate. This is a disadvantage in that it requires you, when clearing the weapon, to cycle all rounds through the action, slightly (at least, it damn well better be slightly) increasing the odds of an accidental discharge.  A lot of cheaper bolt guns (think Remington 700 ADL) have blind magazines, which have the same issue.  A hinged floorplate allows you to dump unused rounds into your hand without them going through the action.  That’s handy.
    • Locking lugs. Personally, I like the old classic layout, two big beefy locking lugs at the front of the bolt.  It’s easier to maintain a solid lockup and keep headspace with two big lugs than with nine little ones, like the old Weatherby Mark V has.

    If bolt guns aren’t your cup of tea, there are other options.

    Semi-autos are very popular these days and have probably surpassed single-shots in the Western game field scene.  Bear in mind that most, if not all states limit you to five rounds or less in any rifle used to take big game; that’s rarely an issue in bolt guns but sure can be in a semi-auto.  The AR platform can handle some rounds suitable for deer-sized game, while the AR-10 and guns like the old Winchester 100 and the various Remington semis can handle .308- and .30-06-level rounds.  If you want more oomph, look into the Browning Automatic Rifle, a gas-operated powerhouse in chamberings up to the .338 Winchester Magnum.

    Single-shots are still popular.  While older designs like the Springfield are weak by today’s standards and require light loads, modern singles like the Ruger #1 and the new-manufacture Browning Hi-Wall are bank-vault tough and can handle any rounds you choose to feed them.

    Singles have another advantage:  If you are on a tight budget, some singles like the New England Firearms break-tops are very easy on the bankbook and can be had in a wide variety of calibers.  If your budget is really tight, you can even have a shotgun and rifle in one go with the simple expedient of purchasing additional barrels.

    Finally, there is the classic Western rifle:  The lever gun.  While most lever guns are 200-yard propositions for deer-sized game, there are a couple of notable exceptions.  The Savage 99 can be had in the .300 Savage and the .308 Winchester, which lends some more power to a platform traditionally used for cartridges like the .30-30.  And there is the fine old Browning Lever Rifle (BLR) which feeds from a box magazine, handles cartridges up to the .300 Winchester Magnum and has a rotating bolt head with bolt-action-style locking lugs at the front of the bolt; the BLR has been described as a bolt gun where the bolt is operated by a lever, and that’s a pretty good description.

    No matter what rifle you choose, there’s another key decision to be made as well, which brings us to…

    Cartridges

    In recent years it seems like we’ve seen an explosion (pun intended) of new rifle cartridges.  Some of these are commercial adoptions of popular wildcat rounds, some are purposely developed by gun and/or ammunition manufacturers.   I’m not immune to the wildcatting bug myself; I’ve long thought of having my favorite .30-06 rechambered to the .30-06 Ackley Improved, which gives .300 H&H Magnum ballistics while still allowing use of regular .30-06 factory loads.

    For the most part, though, I’m a practical kind of guy, and most of my rifles are hunting rifles.  While plenty of folks love to play with custom calibers or line up to buy the first examples of the latest Eargesplitten Loudenboomer Magnum, I’m pretty content to stick with cartridges that have been around a while.

    Now, admittedly, I’ve got quite a few more rifles than I need for just hunting North American big game, like buck mulies or big bull elk.  I load for and shoot rifles in the .22 Hornet (developed in the 1920’s and adopted by Winchester in 1930), the .45-70 (introduced 1873), the .338 Winchester Magnum (introduced 1958), and the .30 WCF (introduced 1895.)

    Most of these cartridges are readily available in any large gun or sporting-goods store; hell, you can buy many of them in Wal-Mart, at least some kind of ammo to get you shooting.  But when it comes to availability of ammo, you still can’t really beat the old .30-06 Springfield.  The ’06 may be 112 years old, but it’s still one of the best big-game rounds going; if I know someone interested in learning the ins and outs of hunting and shooting who wants to buy a single rifle for North American big game, they would be well-advised to buy a .30-06.  It will easily handle anything from antelope to moose, although it may be a bit on the light side for big Alaskan bears and the largest bull Alaska-Yukon moose.  But the ’06 has a huge advantage for those packing one gun across long distances, perhaps in airline checked baggage:  If you lose your ammo supply somewhere en route, you can walk into almost any gas station, bait shop, or general store (there are still some around) and buy at least some kind of ammo that you can re-zero and get to work with.

    The only other rifle cartridge that you can say that about it perhaps the old .30 WCF (.30-30, for those not familiar with the original name) and the trienta-trienta is popular enough from the Yukon to the Canal Zone, but not quite up to game like elk or moose.  It’s strictly a 150-200-yard cartridge for deer-sized game.

    I reckon the .30-06 will be around at least as long as I am.  Rifle and cartridge design hasn’t changed all that much, overtly, in the last 100 years; most modern bolt-action rifles are adaptations of the 1898 Mauser, and scores of cartridges, wildcat and otherwise, are still based on the .30-06 case.  What has advanced in the shooting world is metallurgy, ammunition propellants and projectiles, and optics.  But a good case design is a good case design, which is why the .30-06 remains one old dog that’s learned lots of new tricks.

    But, with that said:  I have one principle when it comes to hunting rifles:  You can shoot little stuff with a big gun, but you can’t shoot big stuff with a little gun.  That’s why I generally go afield with a .338 Winchester Magnum.

    Shooting legend Elmer Keith was also a fan of the big .33 caliber for big game, although he favored the wildcat .333 OKH, named for its designers Charles O’Neil, Don Hopkins, and the aforementioned Elmer Keith.  The OKH was a .30-06 round opened up to take .333 caliber bullets.  This wildcat round saw some use in western game fields alongside the similar .35 Whelen (the .30-06 case necked up to .35 caliber) until 1958, when Winchester released the more powerful .338 Winchester Magnum.

    If I were to own only one rifle, it would be a .338 Winchester Magnum bolt gun wearing a 2-7X or 3-9X scope and a good stout leather shooting sling.  With that, you can easily kill any big game animal in North America while not messing up a 120-pound meat deer too much.  But that’s a qualified recommendation; I’m tall, big-framed, and not very recoil-sensitive.

    Some folks are just the opposite.  Mrs. Animal is small, tiny-framed (4’11”) and, due to chronic pain issues, much more recoil-sensitive.  Her primary hunting rifle is a Ruger 77 MkII Compact in the rather interesting little .260 Remington, a good round for deer-size game, but one that will handle elk with good controlled-expansion bullets and careful shot placement.

    1891 Argentine stalking rifle

    If you’re recoil-conscious and bigger game is on the menu, there are some excellent old standbys, including the .270 Winchester, the .280 Remington and the .30-06.  Short-action rounds like the .308 have been wildly successful as well, partly because they work.  The old 7x57mm Mauser has killed big game all over the world – “Karamojo” Bell famously killed a lot of African elephants with it, a feat I wouldn’t want to attempt.  Some years back I found an old 1891 Argentine Mauser action wearing a 7x57mm barrel; I put a butterknife bolt handle and a Redfield peep on it, stocked it with a nice slim English walnut stock.  It was a neat little rifle, light, handy and shootable.  I fed it mild handloads and killed a few deer and one javelina with it.

    Of course, there’s more to recoil than the cartridge.  My .338 is manageable in part because it weighs close to ten pounds loaded, has a nice thick butt pad and is Mag-Na-Ported.  The worst-kicking rifle I ever owned was a small-ring 98 Mauser with a slick little European-style stalker stock in black walnut, with an 18” light sporter barrel in .308 and a 1.5-5x scope.  It weight about six and a half pounds loaded and was a joy to carry but kicked like a bad-tempered mule.

    Optics/Sights

    Here’s a basic observation:  Most people over-scope their hunting rifles.  My favorite example is a guy I chatted with up in Routt County one year who had a 4-12 power, adjustable objective scope on a Marlin 336 .30-30.  Scoping the ChiCom SKS is another fad of recent days, which seems like it’s pretty much the definition of polishing a turd.

    Most folks, for most hunting, can do very well with a 4X fixed-power scope or a 2-7X or 3x9X variable.  You’ll find that in most shooting with variables you’ll keep the scope dialed to the lower end of the range, as target acquisition is a lot quicker with lower magnification.

    Long Rifle.

    If you’re setting up a rifle for plains deer or antelope, you might want more scope; I have one like that, a Ruger 77 Mk II Target with a 6-18X scope.  But that’s a specialized rifle for reaching out and touching speed-goats in open country; it’s not something you want to carry around all day.  The damn thing weighs almost twelve pounds with scope, bipod, sling and a load of .243 rounds.

    Whatever scope you buy, don’t skimp, but you don’t have to take out a second mortgage.  Redfield, Weaver, Simmons and Burris all make reasonably priced good, solid scopes in a wide range of sizes and powers.  It’s not out of line to spend as much on your optics as you’ve spent on your rifle, but you can get a decent scope for less than that if you shop around.

    In Conclusion

    Find a good rifle that you can handle, that you can shoot well, and practice, practice, practice.  Get off the range and shoot in the field, from improvised rests and off-hand.  Learn how to shoot in the field and you can hit anything, anywhere.  Make sure your cartridge/bullet combination is appropriate to the game you’re after; I would not recommend taking on an Alaska grizzly with a .243, for example.

    A good hunting rifle should last a couple of lifetimes.  Consider it an investment, one that can be passed on to the next generation and choose accordingly.  You won’t regret it.

  • Jumping Off a Bridge with the Rest of You — Part 2

    Swiss floated this idea one evening following the daydrinking midday Saturday timeslot.  I was playing mini golf with my children at the time, because they happen to like mini golf. At first I was hesitant about the idea.  Then I remembered how much fun I had researching out an article on malt liquor titled, It Works, Every Time. I was intoxicated with the idea that only in a market based  system can something so terrible be marketable.  People actually want to drink this stuff.  Can you imagine the rancid grog they drink in Venezuela?

    Oh, right.

    I made a mental note of the bum drinks Swiss picked and noted his deadline.  Officers…he required a draft ready for Wednesday, so that it can be reviewed Thursday, scheduled Friday for Saturday at the usual time.  Which means by the time I’m ready to send it on Tuesday my team of monkeys with typewriters have to have it ready by Monday afternoon. They’ll be sitting around smoking Lucky Strikes until Thursday wondering if it got approved….

    First up, is a classic around a game of bones or at the frat house:  Mickey’s Fine Malt Liquor.

    Also a Miller product first produced in 1962, Mickey’s is best known for its yellow hornet, and the distinctive wide mouth, waffle patterned bottle.  Typically, two of these are consumed in a single sitting, at the same time.  Many fraternity initiations have insisted pledges complete an ordeal known as the “Edward Forty Hands.” Here a pledge is required to have two of these duct taped to his hands and ordered to drink both over the course of an evening.  Meet a girl? Too bad. Can’t unbutton your fly? Sorry, you’re just going to have to piss yourself.

    The first time I had this I had an unknown quantity of Bacardi Silver and puked up a sink full of foam during W’s first term.  It wasn’t my proudest moment but evidently it allowed for more gut space for the remainder of the 40. It’s still as bad and as hyper carbonated as I remember.

    This one gets 2 out of five dumpsters.

    The second one I also had issues finding initially, as my first choice was Natty Light.  I made due and decided this one was as good as any….

     

    I cracked it open, and then I saw the picture on my refrigerator.

    “Who is STEVE SMITH???  My wife asked. “Is he the guy that played for the Carolina Panthers?”

    “No, worse.”  I replied.

    “The guy on ESPN?”  Again with the endless questions.  Think! How did he get into the house?  “Hello? I’m talking to you.” She said.  “My eyes are up here!”

    Her hand struck my occiput and brought my wits back.  “Maybe not as bad as the guy on ESPN.” I had to call Swiss. I had to come up with a solution first, because Officers don’t like hearing about problems.  They like solutions…..

    ____

    “Thank you for calling Swiss Corpse International Industries, Legal Department.”  Swiss’ receptionist answered.

    “It’s pronounced ‘Core’ you stupid twit.  The last one that failed to learn that was discovered by a team of engineers testing dive watches at the bottom of Lake Geneva.”  I replied back indignantly.

    “Password accepted, I’ll patch you through.” She replied sweetly.

    I was confused.  “Password?”

    “mex, I told you never to call me at this number.”  Swiss said. Something was eating at him. Another inane project?  “You have three minutes…” No. They must have run out of Gruyére in the breakroom again. “…three minutes before I throw another receptionist into Lake Geneva.”

    Damn.  The wrong cheese AND an inane project.

    “Swiss, I have a problem.  STEVE SMITH took my dog.” I decided to be upfront.

    “And by took your dog you mean—?”

    “It’s a Chihuahua, ‘mean’ is physically impossible.  At least I don’t think it is.” I interrupted him. He hates being interrupted.  I can feel the icy, narrowed gaze through the phone.  He was intentionally burning through my three minutes with a look that could ravenously tear open lesser men like a fat kid tearing open the foil on a Toblerone.

    “Look, I don’t like hearing about problems.  Tell me about solutions here.” Judas Priest.  Right on cue.

    “The last time he was seen was in Elephant Butte, New Mexico.  I need somebody to write up the beer review this week so I can track him down and get that little dog back.” I replied. That wasn’t really a solution. He’s going to call me out in that.

    “Heh.  Elephant Butt.”

    “No. Butte.  Elephant Butte.”

    “That’s what I said, Elephant Butt.”

    “Stop that, you’re trying to waste my three minutes!”

    “Yup.”

    “Look can somebody cover my time slot this week?”

    “The way I see it, I’m down two posters this week.  You’ll need to take Sugarfree.”

    “What?  Why?”

    “Nobody knows how to track STEVE SMITH better than him.  You’ll need his help if you want to find that little ass dog.”

    “Have you ever gone hiking in the woods with that guy!?”

    “Pfft. No…Sucker.”

    “That’s not funny.”

    “For me it is.”

    “Can somebody cover me or not?”

    “Yeeeesh, I got it.  I drank an Old English the other day before a board meeting.  The vice-chairman is lucky I didn’t break his wee head off and used it to play rugby.”

    “Umm.”

    “Just meet Sugarfree in Silver City.”

    “Truth or Consequences is closer, and they have an airport.”

    “Tell me about it.  I’m stopping you here.”

    “That wasn’t three minutes.”

    “I know.  I’m wearing a Swiss made, COSC Certified, Omega Speedmaster Man on the motherfucking Moon.  I stopped the chronograph at precisely 2:37 as certified by the Swiss government, because you didn’t come to me with a solution.  This call is over.”

    _____

    “New Mexico.  Its like regular Mexico just with more hippies, sensually fellating carne asada across their thin, pale lips…”  Sugarfree was trying to make conversation.

    “You know, you don’t have to do that.  In fact by making so much noise we’re never going to find STEVE SMITH.”  I interrupted him. Turns out, Sugarfree doesn’t like when people interrupt his stream of consciousness.

    The forest was like any other.  Dry. Green. Patches of dead pine needles strewn across the trail with the occasional dog turd.

    “I lost it.  Who are you? I don’t know where I am.”  He began questioning his existence again.

    “I’m mexican sharpshooter, and Swiss sent you here to help me track STEVE SMITH so I can find my tiny ass dog.”  I explained—for the third time that day.

    “Wait, you called Swiss?”

    “Yes.”

    “At work?”  Sugarfree stared at me, in wide eyed terror.

    “Yes.”

    “Last time I called him at work he sent me his receptionist’s finger.”  He explained.

    “What?”

    “Wanna know where I put it?”

    “Judas Priest, NO!”

    “No need to yell.  The note said, ‘That’s the last time you point fingers at me.’”

    “Wait, he mailed you a pun?”

    “Right?”  He twiddled his fingers in the air.  “Narrowed gaze….” Sugarfree giggled while he pulled a large vial hanging around his neck, popped open the top and gingerly pulled out a tiny spoon.  He then snorted the contents of the spoon. “It keeps me focused…where were we?”

    “Finding STEVE SMITH.”

    “Is that why you have an assault pew pew thingy?”  He said with wide, bloodshot eyes.

    “Yes.  I’m anticipating that I will have to shoot him.”

    “You’ll need a bigger gun.  We should’ve brought Warty.”  Sugarfree stared at the back of his hand.  He then began fumbling the feather boa I purposefully pretended not to notice, around his neck.

    “What are you doing?”

    Sugarfree grasped the boa firmly and pulled it tight around his neck.  His other hand reached into his chinos and rubbed furiously.

    “You need a few minutes?  I can be over there, where this is slightly less awkward.”  I offered.

    Sugarfree kept rubbing.  He stared, unblinking with a small drop of blood running down his nose, into his mouth.

    “It helps me if you say something dirty.”  Sugarfree whispered.

    I raised my AR and flipped off the safety.

    “Relax, I’m just fucking with you.”  Sugarfree pulled his hand out of his chinos to reveal a Beanie Baby.  He tied some fishing wire around its neck and hung it on a nearby tree branch.  “STEVE SMITH needs to be lured by the smell of taint. We’ll set up camp over there.”

    _____

    “Aye-ya-yie!”  Sugarfree shouted in the middle of the night, I woke up, startled.  I grabbed my rifle. “Oooh.  Oooh.  Oooh. Oooh.”

    “Aye-ya-yie!”  He just kept on yelling. “Oooh.  Oooh.  Oooh. Oooh.”

    “What are you doing?”  I asked.

    “I’m communicating with STEVE SMITH.”  Sugarfree replied. “Aye-ya-yie!  Oooh.  Oooh.  Oooh. Oooh.”

    “What, is he here?”  I flipped off the safety on my AR.

    “Yes.  He wants to skeet in your hair.   Aye-ya-yie!”

    Then I turned around and saw him.

    STEVE SMITH AYE-YA-YIE ON BROWN MAN

    OOOH OOOH OOOH OOOH

    _____

    At that point I came to with this little ass dog licking my face.  I was about halfway through the can of Hurricane when I woke up from the lucid nightmare.  I am never drinking this shit again.

    1 dumpster out of 5.