(second block, fourth letter of the prisoners' quadratic tap code...)

image
...am here to tap through the walls.



Wed Jun, 10 2009

"Why Do I Fight For 2A Rights?"

"Communism. I've seen it, I've lived it. I will hate it until the end of my life.

Most of you here say guns in the hands of people can defeat tyrants. Regardless of what you may hear from naysayers and firearms 'hobbyists' who will tell you AR's and AK's in civilian hands are no match for tanks and machine guns (I remember one such hobbyist posting this here on Calguns), I come before you to tell you that what you believe to be true it is true: on December 22nd 1989 me and thousands of my compatriots we did just that.

We took up arms from the police forces who deserted their units, broke into the Patriotic Guards arms caches (some sort of communist reserve force), joined forces with a few Army units that refused to obey the order to fire upon the civilian population, kicked Ceausescu out of his palace and on Christmas Day 1989 shoot the bastard and his wife dead."
(.454 -- Calguns.net)

I don't like this whole line of thought. Nobody worth a damn does. That doesn't mean, however, that it can be dismissed with a shrug.

I have more principled reasons for my stand on owning firearms, and I don't care one whit in the world for the Second Amendment. It means nothing to me. My rights have nothing to do with the U.S. Constitution, and when it dawns on people that it has finally been erased -- the principal danger of all political premises posed as "social contracts" -- my rights will still validly exist, even if I die defending them. I own firearms because I have a right to private property. That is the First Thing.

I spit on the chickenshits who cower before the might of the state in this context. I've said it before: by that logic, no RAF pilot would ever have taken off in the summer of 1940, because the odds against success were appalling.

This man knows what the Eloi of this country have never glimpsed. If it ever comes to the worst here, then the watchword is "toujours l'audace!"

(linktrain: Uncle, RNS)

AxeBites

Various guitars I see floating by, mostly Gibson and mostly eBay.


Early Norlin ES-335 -- 1970, in Walnut ("ES-335TDW"). This is a period-piece look and feel, and arguably the sound as well but that's to cut things very finely. A "classic" 335 would be the original of 1958 in the Sunburst or Natural finish, or the Cherry Red of 1959; the Walnut of 1970 (second year of that finish offering) is not really a "classic" 335. In the history of the Gibson aesthetic, this is analogous to, say, vertically-striped polyester bell-bottoms or Bahama Blue shag carpeting. None of this is to say that they're not cool guitars, and this is a nice one. Excellent photographs.

Chrome hardware, featuring the trapeze tailpiece (like my L-47 and I've always liked it) and ABR-1 bridge with period-typical nylon saddles. Bound rosewood fretboard, with small block markers, and then the crown inlay at the machine head. These would be the T-top Humbuckers. Vintage Nazis would moan that the upper bouts are pointy (the body templates were wearing-out in the factory) and the fourteen-degree machine head with the volute signals a sometimes not-fun era of the line, but these things really do rock or moan or whatever you want a 335-type semi-hollow to do. ...which, of course, is because it really is a 335.


In the months since I've let AxeBites languish all to bleedin' hell, Gibson's Robot Guitar technology has sifted out to other models than the original Les Paul application. I don't know how it's going: I still haven't even seen one of these self-tuners. I don't see piles of them burning on the sides of the highway, nor reverent hangings in display cases over bars, so who knows? This 2008 Robot SG is ready to rock in the Metallic Red. Nickel hardware; it's the stoptail wired for data to send to the tuners, with dual Humbuckers. It's a bound rosewood fretboard, but I really like the single-bound machine head with the crown inlay. That's a real cool old-school look, right there, to set off that crazy-ass color. {nod}