Wat's Guns-N-Stuff Thread

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M14 stock refinishing update: Scored a TACTICAL sander and some TACTICAL sandpaper and really went to town on those two pieces of wood yesterday. The poorer one cleaned up pretty well and the better one is going to look great. We'll get into the polishing grits today, and maybe go to score some stain for the poor one.


At this rate, Wat'll need another M1A . . . .
 
This one is a Crapsman. Blue Box store. I didn't feel like springing for the yellow one since this will be for small projects and there wasn't any point in dropping the extra shekels.
 
Here's some stuff:

I'm perusing Drudge Report™ headlines and there it is, the annual obligatory (because of GlowBall Warning) experts predict the most active Hurricane Season in history! What's that movie where you wake up to the same day every day?
 
I just looked for the best possible replacement sandpapers, quality, price and quantity and then went with the tool that fit them. I believe it was Menards™...

They have more selection than the blue box. Food too. Snacks...
 
I guess that I shouldn't have skipped that movie.

I'm still Waiting for Godot...



... to make sense.
 
Tell our Baldwins that all but one round are blanks?

I saw my DI kill a rattlesnake with a blank. They pack a punch...
 
https://poeticoutlaws.substack.com/...e&r=5pvln&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email


You’re Painfully Alive in a Drugged and Dying Culture​

By: Erik Rittenberry​



“It’s a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares anymore; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.”

— Richard Yates



Behind me is a society I, too, belong to—a society teetering on the edge of all-out madness. We, the people, seem to be half-asleep at the wheel and completely entangled in a web of false narratives and social delusions. Our semiconscious society of disenfranchised people is at war with each other over manufactured illusions and irrational beliefs. We are completely alienated from each other, our deeper selves, and the soil that sustains us.

“Every realm of society is permeated with falsity and falsification,” the great Henry Miller reminded us so many years ago. He’s still right—probably more so today.

Sitting here I can’t help but look up at the skies and ask — what the hell is happening to us as a species?

Most of the big cities are uninhabitable. Our communities have all but disintegrated as the pockets of our overlords have fattened. The vast array of self-help books that fly off the shelves daily haven’t helped us all too much. Money and an abundance of toys and possessions haven’t made us happy. The filters on our posing faces can’t disguise the truth of mortality.

Everyone is afraid. This once beautiful land is now a land of dread. Something is ending. We are at the precipice of something none of us understand.

How did we get here?

And so on . . . .
 
Here's some stuff:

I'm perusing Drudge Report™ headlines and there it is, the annual obligatory (because of GlowBall Warning) experts predict the most active Hurricane Season in history! What's that movie where you wake up to the same day every day?

I heard the other day that the Carolina's were especially vulnerable this season. The remnants do a lot of damage here in the mountains.
 
https://poeticoutlaws.substack.com/...e&r=5pvln&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email


You’re Painfully Alive in a Drugged and Dying Culture​

By: Erik Rittenberry​



“It’s a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares anymore; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.”

— Richard Yates



Behind me is a society I, too, belong to—a society teetering on the edge of all-out madness. We, the people, seem to be half-asleep at the wheel and completely entangled in a web of false narratives and social delusions. Our semiconscious society of disenfranchised people is at war with each other over manufactured illusions and irrational beliefs. We are completely alienated from each other, our deeper selves, and the soil that sustains us.

“Every realm of society is permeated with falsity and falsification,” the great Henry Miller reminded us so many years ago. He’s still right—probably more so today.

Sitting here I can’t help but look up at the skies and ask — what the hell is happening to us as a species?

Most of the big cities are uninhabitable. Our communities have all but disintegrated as the pockets of our overlords have fattened. The vast array of self-help books that fly off the shelves daily haven’t helped us all too much. Money and an abundance of toys and possessions haven’t made us happy. The filters on our posing faces can’t disguise the truth of mortality.

Everyone is afraid. This once beautiful land is now a land of dread. Something is ending. We are at the precipice of something none of us understand.

How did we get here?

And so on . . . .
Indeed. Mr. Rittenberry has expressed an old sentiment well.
 
I prefer them chopped.

Everyone not wearing the Libertarian label?

Oh. Wait. Wrong thread, wrong tribe. This is for tribes of one. Or Juan...
 
Libturds. Sheep.


What's your point???


There may be a mutton casserole recipe out there somewhere.


Pigs don't require that libturds be cooked.
 
Lamb is not preferred here; human, sheep or sheeple...

Here it the church, here is the steeple,
Open the doors and see all the sheeple.


No wonder they require a shepherd to lead them as a flock.

Right over that metaphorical cliff...

 
Yaaaaawwwwwwwn.
Well, it's rise and shine time.
Another day and another opportunity to say that wat is the biggest pussy on Lit. Wat is not worthy to be followed and fails to defend any of you minions nor can he stake out a credible position without appropriating someone else's thoughts. Oh, and wat is weak - I almost forgot that part as well.
 
Lamb is not preferred here; human, sheep or sheeple...

Here it the church, here is the steeple,
Open the doors and see all the sheeple.


No wonder they require a shepherd to lead them as a flock.

Right over that metaphorical cliff...



Hmmm, lemmings.


When Life gives you lemmings, make lemmingade . . . .
 
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