Deathwatch Over

With profound apologies to Lovis Corinth...

Sorry to all of those who have wished it upon me and mine over the years, but it appears I am recovering. The plan is to resume normal operations on Monday, so I'd appreciate holding off on overloading me with news tips, emails, and comments in the interim.

I did submit an article to AmmoLand a few minutes ago-- don't know if it will make it in tonight's release or not, but no matter. I also forced myself to respond to some emails and social media communications but had to regretfully decline an invitation from Michael Dukes for Firearms Friday.

I've actually been at the computer since this morning catching up and doing some behind-the-scenes sausage-making in addition to the above-mentioned article. That said, I have a tendency to push myself too much and don't want a relapse. I'm going to go take it easy for the rest of the day now, but if there's a lesson that's been brought home once more, it's that binge-watching TV -- just inputs with no processing and output -- is no damn good for the brain. It's just that book-reading, which I'm way behind on, has been too much effort.

Speaking of the boob tube (I'm strictly streaming, no over-the-air or cable, and if you're on the internet I don't need to be chastised for not boycotting everybody), and tying it all in with the cheesy title to this post, I watched the Bruce Willis remake of Death Wish yesterday, and sorry, Charles Bronson did it best.

Spoiler alert if you haven't seen it and want to.

Stop reading and go away now.

Go on, beat it.

Scram.

Are they gone?

My biggest objection was his going to a Chicago gun store (!!!) where the clerk scoffed at FOID as a minor inconvenience and then sold him a full-auto machinegun that he used in the climax to blow away the bad guy.  Hollywood feeds this crap to the public and they're ripe for swindling out of their rights, just like Josh Sugarmann intended.

I guess I expected better out of Willis, but after Clint Eastwood endorsing Mike Bloomberg, none of these f***ers with the universe revolving around their navels surprise me anymore.

OK, that's it 'til Monday unless I do a promotion of the AmmoLand piece or something YUGE! happens to drag me from my non-deathbed. Now back to the easy chair and some Magnum, P.I. (the real one).