Sunday, February 3, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Friday, January 11, 2013
Open Resignation to the NRA
EDITOR'S NOTE: Frank's views are not necessarily the views of myself or Andrew. However Blue Ribbon Radio is a place where every side of every subject can be looked upon, and every opinion voiced. This is everybody's sounding board.
My name is REDACTED, and my member number is REDACTED. I want to end my membership with the NRA immediately.
When I moved out of my parents house six years ago, as a responsible gun-owning citizen, I dawdled a few years before I joined the NRA. I joined primarily out of a sense of nostalgia for reading American Rifleman as a boy, as well as a completely misguided fear of President Obama wanting to take away the shotgun and .22LR I shoot for fun.
Once I did take the step to join the NRA, I did so with joy and pride, thinking that I was doing a service to the Second Amendment. It proved to be a gravely mistaken notion that the rights of reasonable gun owners were actually being infringed upon. I received the stickers in the mail and quickly applied them to my truck and my toolbox at work. Then I began to receive the magazine.
You know as well as I that you remember things differently from your youth than they actually were.
Obviously I missed the political bent when I was younger; all I knew then was I loved shooting with my Father and Grandfather, and American Rifleman had cool pictures of cool guns. They were both NRA members, and when I had the means to join, I wanted to be in the club.
Immediately after I joined, even in my ill-informed youth, I recognized Wayne LaPierre for what he is: a foam-flecked professional paranoiac. I never liked what he had to say, and I never felt that he was a good representative of “gun rights.” For a time I was able to regard him as a curiosity, but as I came to embrace my voting rights, I now see him as a menace to society at large.
The final turning point for me was the press conference a week after the Newtown massacre, and his appearance on Meet the Press a few days later.
The unwillingness of the NRA, and especially LaPierre, to even consider the idea that something as simple as a ban on magazines holding more than ten rounds has forced the ugly realization upon me that the NRA is nothing more than the propaganda arm of the firearms industry. The desire to shift responsibility is nothing short of appalling. Wayne LaPierre's attempt to lay the blame at the feet of Hollywood and the video game industry is offensive to logic on several levels, chief of which is the fact that the NRA maintains an exhibit dedicated exclusively to famous guns of Hollywood. I do not take the easy road and blame entertainment, but I cannot be part of an institution that not only vilifies, but glorifies, the same thing, and for the same reason.
I am a gun owner who believes that our main action against the government is to shed oppressive special-interest propaganda and vote with our conscience, and do so without fear. I am a gun owner who believes that no honest civilian needs more than ten rounds in any magazine. I am a gun owner who believes you are a detriment to civilized society, and wants no further part of you.
My name is REDACTED, and my member number is REDACTED. I want to end my membership with the NRA immediately.
When I moved out of my parents house six years ago, as a responsible gun-owning citizen, I dawdled a few years before I joined the NRA. I joined primarily out of a sense of nostalgia for reading American Rifleman as a boy, as well as a completely misguided fear of President Obama wanting to take away the shotgun and .22LR I shoot for fun.
Once I did take the step to join the NRA, I did so with joy and pride, thinking that I was doing a service to the Second Amendment. It proved to be a gravely mistaken notion that the rights of reasonable gun owners were actually being infringed upon. I received the stickers in the mail and quickly applied them to my truck and my toolbox at work. Then I began to receive the magazine.
You know as well as I that you remember things differently from your youth than they actually were.
Obviously I missed the political bent when I was younger; all I knew then was I loved shooting with my Father and Grandfather, and American Rifleman had cool pictures of cool guns. They were both NRA members, and when I had the means to join, I wanted to be in the club.
Immediately after I joined, even in my ill-informed youth, I recognized Wayne LaPierre for what he is: a foam-flecked professional paranoiac. I never liked what he had to say, and I never felt that he was a good representative of “gun rights.” For a time I was able to regard him as a curiosity, but as I came to embrace my voting rights, I now see him as a menace to society at large.
The final turning point for me was the press conference a week after the Newtown massacre, and his appearance on Meet the Press a few days later.
The unwillingness of the NRA, and especially LaPierre, to even consider the idea that something as simple as a ban on magazines holding more than ten rounds has forced the ugly realization upon me that the NRA is nothing more than the propaganda arm of the firearms industry. The desire to shift responsibility is nothing short of appalling. Wayne LaPierre's attempt to lay the blame at the feet of Hollywood and the video game industry is offensive to logic on several levels, chief of which is the fact that the NRA maintains an exhibit dedicated exclusively to famous guns of Hollywood. I do not take the easy road and blame entertainment, but I cannot be part of an institution that not only vilifies, but glorifies, the same thing, and for the same reason.
I am a gun owner who believes that our main action against the government is to shed oppressive special-interest propaganda and vote with our conscience, and do so without fear. I am a gun owner who believes that no honest civilian needs more than ten rounds in any magazine. I am a gun owner who believes you are a detriment to civilized society, and wants no further part of you.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Eat Like a Man.
I have written before on the great pleasures of fine drink and good music. I have written on the importance of having a drinking uniform in order to put you at ease on a night out drinking. It is high to talk about the carnivorous joy that accompanies a well-cooked meal, and how to prepare for it.
There can't really be much debate that many of life's best moments happen during the consumption and preparation of food. Real food, not rabbit food. No great inside joke or story saw its genesis while everyone was eating a salad. If it did, you should kill yourself. Heavy meals and alcohol bring people together in a way that is only rivaled by the heavy consumption of hard alcohol after the meal.
When preparing for this type of meal, you should be prepared to spare no expense, whether you cook it yourself or are eating out. At least once a year you can find the cash to buy premium meat, beer, and whisk(e)y. This is no time to skimp. Beef is the clear frontrunner here; pork comes a distant second. It is true that the combination of pork and bourbon is one of the most delicious pairings in the known universe, but it simply does not satisfy hunger in the same way that a thick cut of semi-cooked steak can. If you have considered chicken, please kill yourself with those vegan assholes. You are a man, so eat like one.
Regardless of whether you eat out or in, dress nice. Utilize your drinking uniform. It's pretty hard to imagine the Rat Pack getting together in T-shirts and pajama pants, and I guarantee you are not cooler than they, so put on something with a goddamn collar. If you are at home, turn out the linen napkins and china. If you're out, go somewhere you may need to grease a palm in order to get a table.
Now that you have gathered the bovine, and at least two other like-minded individuals, it is time to attend to the all-important matter of drinks. Classically speaking there are three stages of drink during a fine meal: apéritif, some fancy name for during the meal, and the digestif. Unless you are a complete and utter moron you should be able to figure out what these words mean. The BRR audience may be hardscrabble and uncouth, but I do not think us stupid, so I will not explain what they mean. Granted, bourbon can work for all three of these dinner stages, but I like a little variation with my meal, and after all, if you are reading this you understand that the old adage of liquor before beer is nothing more than high school hogwash.
Tradition holds that lighter alcohols are served before the main course, such as champagne or some other chilled white wine. Cocktails are also acceptable, but nothing that has a name that would make a sorority girl perk up and want to order. I say the only thing to order is a martini, and this is the only time to order a martini. Take care though, and use good gin. Make sure it is of no less quality than Beefeater, and make damn sure you garnish with a lemon peel rather than an olive. This will show any waitress or bartender in a reputable establishment that you know what you are doing and are prepared to tip well for good service. Whether or not you do is your business, but don't be an asshole. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to go out.
Options for drink during the meal are a little more flexible. Convention holds red wine for red meat and white wine for white meat and fish, so forth and so on. I have never been much for wine and so typically I order beer for my main course. Here we must forego the blog's namesake beer and drink something with taste, and the price to match. Being as how we are eating red meat, we must order a good dark beer. If these are unfamiliar waters for you, a hint is that you can never go wrong with a Sam Adams Boston Lager. If you want something else, most beers with funny names are good, especially if they come from Colorado or Washington. If you opt for wine I can't give you much guidance other than make sure it is red, and make sure you drink the entire bottle.
Now that you have consumed all of your meat and potatoes, it is time for the digestif. Not that it has ever mattered to us, but this is the point in the meal where whiskey is socially acceptable. A well-made Old-Fashioned is ideal here, but unfortunately there are precious few bartenders who know how to make a good one. This is a beautiful, historic, and delicious cocktail, so if you can't make them well, don't try to make them for others. Just pour whiskey on the rocks. The only way you can screw that up is if you have a stingy pour.
Your meal completed, successfully if you have followed this guide, the rest of the evening is left to your discretion. My personal preference is for a simple retirement to a porch for old whiskey and cigars. If you have made the decision to eat out, obviously your next stop will be a bar. If you have any sense at all, it will not be some establishment that could be described as a “club.” A clean, well-lighted place isn't necessary, but you neither should you struggle to have conversation nor order drinks.
There will be morning soon, and with it you will be required to expiate your sins. You should take solace in the fact that you lived, and you lived well. Even if it is only once a year, you wined and dined as a king. At the expense of your checkbook you carpe'd that diem, and are all the richer for it. You drank good drink and you ate good eats. Goddammit, you were a man.
Frank Nichols
There can't really be much debate that many of life's best moments happen during the consumption and preparation of food. Real food, not rabbit food. No great inside joke or story saw its genesis while everyone was eating a salad. If it did, you should kill yourself. Heavy meals and alcohol bring people together in a way that is only rivaled by the heavy consumption of hard alcohol after the meal.
When preparing for this type of meal, you should be prepared to spare no expense, whether you cook it yourself or are eating out. At least once a year you can find the cash to buy premium meat, beer, and whisk(e)y. This is no time to skimp. Beef is the clear frontrunner here; pork comes a distant second. It is true that the combination of pork and bourbon is one of the most delicious pairings in the known universe, but it simply does not satisfy hunger in the same way that a thick cut of semi-cooked steak can. If you have considered chicken, please kill yourself with those vegan assholes. You are a man, so eat like one.
Regardless of whether you eat out or in, dress nice. Utilize your drinking uniform. It's pretty hard to imagine the Rat Pack getting together in T-shirts and pajama pants, and I guarantee you are not cooler than they, so put on something with a goddamn collar. If you are at home, turn out the linen napkins and china. If you're out, go somewhere you may need to grease a palm in order to get a table.
Now that you have gathered the bovine, and at least two other like-minded individuals, it is time to attend to the all-important matter of drinks. Classically speaking there are three stages of drink during a fine meal: apéritif, some fancy name for during the meal, and the digestif. Unless you are a complete and utter moron you should be able to figure out what these words mean. The BRR audience may be hardscrabble and uncouth, but I do not think us stupid, so I will not explain what they mean. Granted, bourbon can work for all three of these dinner stages, but I like a little variation with my meal, and after all, if you are reading this you understand that the old adage of liquor before beer is nothing more than high school hogwash.
Tradition holds that lighter alcohols are served before the main course, such as champagne or some other chilled white wine. Cocktails are also acceptable, but nothing that has a name that would make a sorority girl perk up and want to order. I say the only thing to order is a martini, and this is the only time to order a martini. Take care though, and use good gin. Make sure it is of no less quality than Beefeater, and make damn sure you garnish with a lemon peel rather than an olive. This will show any waitress or bartender in a reputable establishment that you know what you are doing and are prepared to tip well for good service. Whether or not you do is your business, but don't be an asshole. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to go out.
Options for drink during the meal are a little more flexible. Convention holds red wine for red meat and white wine for white meat and fish, so forth and so on. I have never been much for wine and so typically I order beer for my main course. Here we must forego the blog's namesake beer and drink something with taste, and the price to match. Being as how we are eating red meat, we must order a good dark beer. If these are unfamiliar waters for you, a hint is that you can never go wrong with a Sam Adams Boston Lager. If you want something else, most beers with funny names are good, especially if they come from Colorado or Washington. If you opt for wine I can't give you much guidance other than make sure it is red, and make sure you drink the entire bottle.
Now that you have consumed all of your meat and potatoes, it is time for the digestif. Not that it has ever mattered to us, but this is the point in the meal where whiskey is socially acceptable. A well-made Old-Fashioned is ideal here, but unfortunately there are precious few bartenders who know how to make a good one. This is a beautiful, historic, and delicious cocktail, so if you can't make them well, don't try to make them for others. Just pour whiskey on the rocks. The only way you can screw that up is if you have a stingy pour.
Your meal completed, successfully if you have followed this guide, the rest of the evening is left to your discretion. My personal preference is for a simple retirement to a porch for old whiskey and cigars. If you have made the decision to eat out, obviously your next stop will be a bar. If you have any sense at all, it will not be some establishment that could be described as a “club.” A clean, well-lighted place isn't necessary, but you neither should you struggle to have conversation nor order drinks.
There will be morning soon, and with it you will be required to expiate your sins. You should take solace in the fact that you lived, and you lived well. Even if it is only once a year, you wined and dined as a king. At the expense of your checkbook you carpe'd that diem, and are all the richer for it. You drank good drink and you ate good eats. Goddammit, you were a man.
Frank Nichols
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