And this is how cases get screwed.

According to police, Torres changed his account of the events that led up to the shooting three times. Kogan explained the suspect’s most recent story. “They each grab a gun. He said, the victim took the small revolver, he took the 9mm Ruger, which he knew was loaded. He then pointed it at his friend and pulled the trigger,” Kogan said.

When I saw this sad news item on TV, the talking head named one brand of handgun but the image displayed another. Nothing new, we all have seen AK 47s graphics for shock value in news stories were a revolver had been used. But when they played the Broward Sheriff’s Office news briefing and realized that it was the spokesman for BSO was the one who committed the faux pas, I couldn’t do a thing but shake my head in disgust. I do hope that the case does not get screwed and the sick teen killer gets to walk free because the cops cannot differentiate between a Ruger and a Beretta.

“That’s my grandma. That’s what family does”

Two pieces of tropical scum were cruising around a South Florida neighborhood when they saw an easy target: an 80 year old grandmother engaged in some hobby gardening. Scum One and Scum Two jumped the four foot fence, put a gun to the grandmother’s head and snatched a chain of her neck.

Before they could do more damage, the lady’s 24 year old grandson came out of the house and engaged the robbers with his own sidearm. The Scums left the house in a hurry, escaping in bicycles…seriously, what’s with the Lance Armstrong Escape?

Cops got one of the Pedaling Attackers and are looking for the second.

Bye Bye Baird.

Darn it! Now we did it. Alan C. Baird bought hisself a gun!

On several updates of his now infamous post, Mr. Baird is claiming that he has decided to use his (not you, you don’t have one) Second Amendment Rights and bought firearms for his protection. And you know something? I am almost sure he did. Hypocrisy is a well established trait with his kind.

Of course, he goes on to rant against where can you carry and stating that Arizona is asking for trouble (why Arizona has not had any trouble remains un-asked) and he ends up comparing himself with Salman Rushdie and compares us with Muslim Terrorists… there he goes again with his racist remarks. (Cue violins and images of puppies)

And just in case he feels the need to delete his post and claim we are violating his First Amendment rights, here is a capture of the blog.

But somehow I don’t think he is “afraid.” I think he just wanted to buy a gun and used the post as an excuse so he did not lose points on his Progressive Card. Let’s face it, if he was really afraid that we gun nuts were after his ass, he wouldn’t be publishing his location and photo, right?

Funny thing the crosshairs on his pic. Yep, he wanted a gun and needed an excuse.

UPDATE: Nope, he ain’t very afraid. He is in Facebook with all his data, his family’s and fresh pictures. His rant about us have not generated much sympathy amongst his 452 friends.

Pitiful.

A Baird that flew away.

Just a couple of days ago, I posted about an “article” by Alan Baird and his encounter with an open carry senior citizen. I Just found out via The Smallest Minority that Mr. Baird allegedly got “scared” and removed his post. He wails about his First Amendment rights being attacked by us Barbarians and now more than ever that nobody should own guns.

Mr. Baird seems to believe that the Right to Free Speech comes with the extended bonus that you are not allowed to be criticized. I did a quick check in my personal copy of the Constitution and unless I have a defective one, I see nothing of the kind.  Mr. Baird did remove the original post and changed it to some long rant about he being a taught by a hunter or some other bullcrap that now, unfortunately for him nobody believes but his equally minded fellows.

Fortunately somebody made a copy of the original post We The Armed so I am gonna reproduce it here for your reading pleasure:

Gunfight At The Shopping-Cart Corral. (by Alan C. Baird)

shopping cart corralSo, the wife and I were shopping at our local natural-foods grocery store this morning. No, we’re not tree-huggers. They just have a nice fruit section. Peaches and sh*t.

We were browsing through the peach aisle when my wife urgently pulled me aside: “Did you see that guy?”

“What guy?” I craned my neck to peek around behind her.

“Don’t look. He might shoot.”

“Whaaaat?!” That really captured my attention. Sure enough, some corpulent 80-year-old a**hole was standing in front of the donut peaches, packing a pistol. Rosewood-checkered grip, tooled-leather holster, the whole bit. Not a law enforcement guy, just some retired jerkoff who evidently wanted to enhance the perceived size of his schlong.

Allow me to digress for a moment: the last time I wore a gun and a tooled-leather holster, I was six years old. I had imaginary shootouts with Tommy, who lived next door. Our guns were just cap pistols. Nobody got hurt, unless you tried to drop a big rock on several rolls of caps. (Don’t try this at home. I speak from experience.) We loved wearing the full cowboy drag. And we enjoyed using our guns and holsters.

Until we outgrew them.

At age six.

I mean, everybody outgrows them, right?

Well, apparently not.

Okay, back to Mr. Second-f___ing-Amendment: when I saw that gun in the grocery store, steam started shooting from my ears. I marched up to the front office and loudly demanded to see the manager. When he arrived, I was apoplectic: “If you’re gonna allow this kind of behavior in your store, I’m not gonna shop here anymore.”

The manager was apologetic: “I can’t stop him. Arizona is a Right-To-Carry state.”

no firearms allowed “You can’t post a ‘No Firearms Allowed’ sign on the door?”

“Sadly, no.”

I riposted: “Bars can do it.”

“I know. But that’s because they sell alcohol.”

“Then it’s high time to get a liquor license.”

He nodded. “I hear you.”

“So, guns are off-limits in bars, schools, government buildings, airports and airliners. You think it’s a good idea to allow them in your grocery store?”

“No, but…”

“And it’s not like this white-bread neighborhood is dangerous. The worst criminals you have are jaywalkers.”

“Exactly. I recently moved here from California, and I can’t believe what these people get away with.”

I pulled out the big guns: “Displaying a gun is an implied threat of violence. His threat has spread fear in your customers. Instilling fear is a hallmark of terrorism. Under some definitions, he has already committed a terrorist act.”

He sympathized. “Guns are just murders waiting to happen.” But then he shrugged.

The shrug derailed me. What’s that Edmund Burke quote? “All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing.”

I shuffled back to the peach aisle, tail between my legs. The gun-totin’ a**hole had moved over to the nectarine aisle. My wife said: “Well?”

“It’s legal. Nothing to be done.”

“You’re kidding.” Let me explain: she’s European. And like most civilized people, she often has trouble understanding some of Arizona’s mediæval laws.

I shook my head. “Nope. And I can’t say anything to him. If he’s psycho enough to wear a gun in a grocery store, he’s psycho enough to use it. All of us would end up on the evening news, looking like Swiss cheese.”

She was silent for a long time. “You’re afraid of him?”

“Duh.”

“Then I will buy you a gun at Christmas. And you will buy one for me.”

“Huh?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Every now and then, she has trouble with the English language. I was beginning to wonder if this was one of those times.

“We will return here on December 26th, and we will stand in front of that old fasz with our brand-new guns, and we will call him out.” ‘Fasz’ is the Hungarian word for ‘pr*ck.’ When she starts peppering her conversation with Magyar expletives, it’s a pretty good indication she’s having no trouble at all with her English. “And if he tries to walk away, we will laugh at the size of his tiny shriveled-up fasz.”

“He’ll draw. You know he’ll draw.”

“He’s old. We’re faster.”

Yes Mr. Baird, you are famous. Enjoy!

Update: UPDATE: Mr. Blair, citing undue attention from our side, deleted his original post. Unfortunately for him screenshots of his original post  can be found in Walls of The City. And to avoid himself any further need to defend what he allegedly believes in but maybe not, Mr. Baird has closed comments on his blog citing First Amendment concerns…Huh?

Monster Hunter Vendetta: Capturing lightning twice.

I am not gonna lie: I was afraid about the new Monster Hunter book. I enjoyed Monster Hunter International so much that I was hesitant about its successor. Was Larry Correia able to get a book as equal in action and fun as the first? He did not. Monster Hunter Vendetta is a great book on its own eight tentacles that you will stop comparing books about 50 pages in and just enjoy this new eccentric ride.

Gun Geek Alert: MHI’s narrative is a brand new cool weapon. It has the awe and lust of the new out of the box handgun and you spend time learning it, taking it apart, lubricating, and taking it to the range to show it off to your buddies for the Drool Factor.  MHV’s narrative is the same gun after the 500 to 800 rounds break in period: all rough spots gone, it cycles beautifully, sends the bullet where you want it and melds with your hand with the familiarity of your loved one.

Two things that caught me by surprise with this book: Humor and I mean laughing out loud- neighbors demanding silence- all out laughter and Larry’s totally outlandish imagination for new monsters and monster behaviors. In a couple of notable passages, both intertwine so well that one must wonder what kind of gun solvent fumes inspired these visions.

Both Monster Hunter International and Monster Hunter Vendetta cannot be pigeon-holed into any specific literary movement. Fantasy? Not quite. Yes, both have a serious dose of that, but that’s too easy. Fiction? Yes but it is also very well grounded on those physical things we know and depend upon. Sci-Fi? You got your interplanetary, trans-dimensional beings but we are spared of UFOs…so far. Magic Realism then? Nope, Larry ain’t a starchy or pretentious author plus I was forced to read some of that crap and bore myself to tears in my younger years while the books keep me awake and racing.

If the books have a “location”, it would be next to that shadow we caught in the corner of our eye on a weird day. That shadow that we cannot see if we try to look at it and it gives us a chill down our spine if we turn our backs to it. Larry does not make us suspend disbelief with his books, he just lets us have flexible minds. And in the monster hunting business, that is 50% of the game.