I’ve had trouble in mind the past week or so. The Delta Blues are real — the variant is ripping through Deschutes County like wildfire. I’ve seen friends go down, despite being vaccinated — though so far the cases have been mild to moderate. And, speaking of wildfire, we had a run of smoke days that felt a bit like trudging through Mordor. There’s a strange psychological pall that falls when you’re living under smoke for days on end. Must be hardwired…
I will not go into the unspeakable disgust I feel at the utter collapse of the U.S. mission — whatever it was — in Afghanistan. That will likely get its own post on Running Iron Report. But that shitshow hung in the background, too.
Let’s just say that my mood resembled that of a certain Captain Flint…. (Don’t tell me you haven’t watched Black Sails yet!?).
Fortunately, I have access to Gunpowder Therapy.
A friend who is dusting off his old law enforcement shooting skills invited me to go out to the Pit to run a few rounds. He brought along his 40-year sidekick, a custom-ported Benelli M-1 Super 90, and an ample supply of buckshot. We had us a Mad Minute. What a magnificent weapon that Benelli is. A cyclical rate so fast it feels like a windstorm. And, of course, a mighty payload downrange.
I burned a lot of powder and hoisted a lot of iron over the weekend, in multiple sessions, because it’s one of the things I KNOW will chase the Black Dog away. And it did, mostly.
Then there are these delightful glimpses of history…
Just look at the grin on that feller’s face. What a privilege to be able to literally touch such pieces of frontier history.
Enjoy the videos, go out and get yourself some Gunpowder Therapy if you need it — and please know that our campfire illuminates my world. So, thanks for that.