Revolvers

I like guns.  There it is said.  Politically incorrect I know but frankly I don't give a damn. I have always liked (not loved) guns.  One of my most exciting memories is pistol familiarisation when I was training to be a bank teller. THIS WAS A LONG TIME AGO.  I was 19 or 20.  There is no way banks allow their staff to have guns today.  But back in the halcyon days before health and safety and PC and excessive litigation, the tellers had a pistol concealed on the shelf under their counter.  Of course the bank management made it abundantly clear that if you used the gun and it didn't go well,  you were on your own.  The bank had no intention of providing legal assistance to you.

Back to familiarisation.  I use that word deliberately because it certainly wasn't training.  That would have been a step too far.  Imagine the press, "Bank trains gunslingers".  Basically we were shown how to load the weapons and how to fire them.  We got to fire two round from each gun and if we hit the target, 'good on ya', but no one expected you to.  Of course I hit it four times.  Geez I was so proud of myself.  And that's the extent of my guns experience.

Many years ago I had an acquaintance who was an accomplished clay target shooter.  I never did get an invitation to attend the range with him and No!, I never asked.  In my mid forties I had the purchasing power to buy my own toys and I tracked down a retailer who sold replica revolvers, cowboy pistol and I released my inner John Wayne.  They were fully functioning replicas in all respects except actually firing.  And boy were they fun.  No, I didn't run around the garden yelling 'Bang' , 'Bang'.  But I did enjoy handling them and playing with them while working on my PCs in the workshop.  I didn't hide them and I didn't show them off.  One day my partner came down to the workshop storage area for some sewing material and noticed one of the pistols on the work bench.  Guess who got the riot act read to them when he got home from work that night.  The fact they were toys was irrelevant. They were guns in her house.  Good bye guns.

No I haven't grown up.  My inner child still wants to play John Wayne.  Yes, he was a racist, sexist, homophobic Republican but he was a cinematic hero of his day.  I unashamedly get pleasure from his movies.  He was an arsehole but his character portrayal was great.  So my inner cowboy still yearns for something hot and hard in his hand (euphemism intended),  but laws in this state make it illegal to own a realistic toy.  I understand it and I am sympathetic to it but I don't have to like it.  If I had the money I would buy a 3D Printer and make my own.  And obviously keep it hidden from EVERYONE!  Unlike the NSW fool who tried to show off and sell one of his replicas on eBay.  Storm troopers smashing in his door at 5:00 am showed him the stupidity of his ways.

I have found a way to sooth the savage beast.  They are wooden (laser cut MDF) toy kits.  Just for fun.  Check these out.

No they don't work.  Okay the middle one fires rubber bands.  The little one is solid once it is stuck together. NO MOVING PARTS. I promise not to scare any little children or old ladies, young ladies either.  I'll still have to hope their existence isn't casually raised in a light hearted conversation with anyone's friend who happens to be a policeman,  Scary shit.

I will slip these two little projects into the modelling stream soon.

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