Deb came home from work yesterday feelin’ puny. Dunno what it is — a bug, something she ate, hard to say. I was a little “off” this morning, too, and the combination didn’t make our Saturday look like it’d be anything stellar.
Before picking up lumber in Mountain Home, we’d intended to drive to Summit to take in the Marion County Fair and help Allen’s Grocery celebrate its 70th anniversary. Not gonna happen.
I slept later than usual. Deb was up earlier, briefly, and went back to bed. Eventually I stirred, fed the dogs, poured a cup of coffee and took it outside.
The view I chose this morning was southwest. I aimed my chair toward the driveway’s south approach, Deb’s mud-splattered Jeep parked to my right.
And I started thinking about loose cannons.
That train of thought didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. It began yesterday, when I saw a photo posted to social media by a prominent person back in Ohio, a man whose bid for public office I’d enthusiastically supported. He and I are acquainted, actually, and I genuinely like the guy.
In the photo, he posed with a semi-automatic rifle in his hands. His finger was on the trigger.
(The reason he posted the image is immaterial.)
When folks began commenting with criticism of his poor trigger discipline — rightly so — he defended it angrily by saying that he knew the gun was unloaded. He called his critics “Karens” and deleted their comments as fast as they were posted.
His passion was evident, but his anger was misplaced. It was a shameful public display of arrogance and shitty judgment.
The guy made a mistake. Instead of acknowledging it, perhaps even correcting it, he doubled-down and defended it.
I’ll admit that photos of people posing with firearms is a pet peeve of mine — it’s the illustrated and literal definition of “poser.” The same goes for sharing staged pictures of one’s personal “arsenal.”
I don’t take those people seriously.
Trigger discipline is a “tell.” It says a lot about the person, beyond the mechanics of handling a firearm. Someone who’s casual about it — or, worse, who makes excuses for poor discipline — is a loose cannon, not worthy of my trust.
Beware the loose cannons, my friends.
I made the lumber run solo today. Deb didn’t feel up to going out. That was fine, honestly, because I would’ve been alone anyway had I gone during the week while she’s at work. Besides, I pretty much own this build-out project.
If you’ve shopped for dimensional lumber the last few years, especially at big-box home-improvement stores, you know the quality sucks. Deb and I are trying to pinch pennies, too, so today I found myself standing in front of the fugliest 2x4s Home Depot has to offer.
I’m not saying that I was looking for diamonds in a septic tank. No, the exercise was more like sorting through 300 turds and choosing 40 that didn’t smell quite as bad as the rest.
With the Silverado’s tailgate down, the eight-footers fit in the bed. One ratchet strap bundled the lumber tightly together and a second pinned the bundle to the floor.
The load rode rock-steady all the way Home. It did rain on me, however. That was unexpected.
Those 2x4s will become the stud walls for the bathroom-laundry. Stay tuned.
The red LED glowing in the lower right-hand corner of that image means that there’s now a fresh 12V/5Ah battery in our Firman 3300 inverter generator. I installed it late this afternoon (though not without difficulty) and threw the OEM charger on it. The new cell should do us for awhile.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB