I grew up in the country, the real country, not this yuppiefied version that we have today where the city dwellers are moving out to where counrty used to be and bringing the 7-11 with them, but real country where a kid carrying a .22 on their shoulder was headed out squirrel huntin' or home from it....not to a shootin' over Nike shoes :cry:
500 acres behind us has been sold to fella who does real estate developments. Now I wonder just how long it will be before the deer population crashes because these folks are gonna come in and wipe out the habitat. Meanwhile I can hear the yuppies headed this way talking about how beautiful it is in the country. Makes me want to gag. :cry: And just how long will it be before one of these city slickers is complaining about how much noise my shooting makes
I go around to the local tire shops and ask about used wheel weights. When asked what I use 'em for I reply "To make bullets" I get looks like I'm some kinda terrorist, like these people have never heard of lead bullets, much less the idea you can make your own. And these folks are "from 'round here". I don't get it. Whatever happened to self sufficiency? I hear everybody complain about how store bought tomatoes taste, but I hardly see anyone growing their own anymore, half the kids I see in town wouldn't know what to do with a pack of seeds if you gave it to them, the other half think food comes from the grocery store, but ask 'em who the latest rap star is...... :roll:
I love my country, but I fear my government. Even more, I fear where a city oriented, materialistic society is taking us.
I love my Handi's. As single shots they exemplify the simplicity and self reliance of the country I grew up in. Reloading and casting my own bullets just compliment that. But everyday that passes it grows in my awareness that I am a dinosaur. The world I grew up in is already gone and being replaced by one that is as different to me as the world was different to the farmers who lost their world to industrialization. I mean how ridiculous is this, here I sit complaining about being a dinosaur, typing away on a computer keyboard to post this on an internet chatroom that is open to visitors from anywhere in the world? My daughter thinks that is normal, and that I love and play with guns is a little weird. Go figure.