Gunfighter: A Modern Warrior's Life

Calling All Web Designers

I have a problem:  My blog is a mess.

I'm not very techie... which is to say, I 'm completely non-technical.  I could blame it on my age, but I don't think that will really fly with most people... especially those 8 or 10 people that will actually read this.

Having said all of that, let me get to the crux of the matter.  I want a professional re-design of my blog, and I want you, yes... YOU, to help me.

I want you to give me a great re-design... no, I don't really want you to give it to me... that is unless you enjoy doing that sort of thing for free... No, this will involve money.  Real money.  Not Monopoly money.

What say you, O conjurers of designs/themes?

Can you help a brother out?

PS:  If you are reading this and aren't a designer, you can help by A) Turning me on to your own designer, or someone that you know who does this sort of stuff, or B)  Putting a designer call out to the people that read your own blogs.

Cheers,

GF

Good Friday (or Gunfighter's Week From Hell)

Most Fridays are good.

 

Some Fridays are better than others.

 

Last Friday was better than just about any Friday in recent memory.

 

The reason that Friday was so special is that I finally saw light at the end of my "firearms-instructor-week-from-hell" tunnel.  Seriously... you know I love my job, but this week has just been too much.  For the past two weeks, we have been conducting a post-academy class for 21 agents and officers.  During this class, each agent has to, among other things, qualify with their service weapons, which isn't a terribly onerous task, since everyone will have qualified at least once before getting to this stage in their training.

 

What happens here is that on the third and fourth training day, all of the trainees get a four hour block of instruction before being required to qualify on day 5.  On day 5, they have to fire a prescribed course of fire, at distances of 1.5, 3, 7, 15, & 25 yards.  Each sequence of the course of fire is timed.  The course consists of a total of 50 rounds fired and has a maximum potential score of 250 points, with 200 points (80%) being the minimum score for qualification. 

 

During the first week of training... just before qualification day, we knew that two shooters might not qualify with their weapons, which is about par for the course in a class that size.  Our expectations were met.  The two that we expected to fail, did exactly that.  One of them not only failed, but failed spectacularly, falling 75 points short of qualifying.  While disturbing, all was not lost because your friend and faithful correspondent, Gunfighter, was assigned to conduct their remedial training.  This is a good thing for poor shooters... do you know why?  Because your pal Gunfighter can teach like a MOFO!

 

So Last Monday (which should have been a day off for me), at 0600 (6 A.M. if you don't habla), I started their training... as you might surmise, I wasn't terribly easy on them.  You see, I have a training philosophy that says that gunfighting isn't for the soft, the weak, or the faint of heart.  I am not in the business of career training.  I teach warriors how to fight.  How to kill.  If you aren't able to steel your heart to that task, you should admit it to yourself, and find a different life path. 

 

So.  We trained.  They listened, they learned, they did the things that I asked them to do, and they dug deep.  Our first session was encouraging, and they went on with the rest of the training day, buoyed by their progress.

 

What really sucked for me, was the fact that on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I had to go straight from training them, to conducting regularly quarterly qualification for regular, journeyman-level, officers and agents who are in normal service.  This consists of teaching a class, giving a safety briefing, and giving a lecture on the quarterly advanced training exercise that we do after qualification.  We do this three days a week, at 0800 and 1300.  Anyway, my section was really short-handed for those two weeks with men at training, one on vacation, and one out sick.  It wasn't pretty.  It was a long and dangerous week, one that I was pleased to be closing in on the end of.

 

On Thursday, the last day of remedial training, we did a practice round on the qualification course of fire, and both of my shooters fired qualifying scores!  I wanted to hug them both, but I remained my calm, cool, aloof, self and told them to look forward to qualification the next day, and sent them on their way. 

 

Friday... a dark morning.  When my shooters arrived at the range, their ammunition was ready, their targets were set up, and we immediately got them briefed before beginning the next 45 minutes that would determine the course of their careers.  I would like to brag, at this point, about how great an instructor that I am, and tell you that both of my shooters were able to qualify, but I can't.  After two consecutive attempts to qualify, one of my shooters failed to come within 24 points of qualification.  She had failed, and I am the one that had to tell her that she wasn't going to make it.  There were excuses, displays of really bad attitude, and all of that stuff, but the bottom line is that ultimately, she isn't suited to the work, and has to go. 

 

I wish her success elsewhere.

 

Oh, did you think that I was done?  Oh heck no.

 

I had to teach my regular remedial shooters as soon as I was done... and when I was done with them, I had to take my turn as the receptionist for the training center because our receptionist was reassigned before we hired another, and then there was an ammunition delivery.

 

By Friday afternoon, I was well and truly beat.  Beat, I say!

 

It was an ugly, but productive week... and I am REALLY glad that it is over!

Youth Soccer Hell

I would like to report that our soccer game this weekend went well, but I can't.  Oh, it wasn't because we were outclassed... not at all.  As a matter of fact, the team that we played has posted two straight losses in the first two weeks of the fall season. 

Naturally, the expectation was there that we should have handled them easily. We should have... but there were a few factors that caused things to be a little... different. 

The first factor was this: *D*, our main goalkeeper wasn't going to be at the game, as she would be attending the Quintenerra of a friend.  No worries on that score, as my own willing and able Soccergirl, was prepared to step into the breach and start (*for the first time*) in the goal.

 The second factor was that our assistant coach,* R,* wasn't going to be there, since he had to coach his other child's game at the same time, which was being played on a different field, at a different location.

The third factor was weather. It started to rain 20 minutes before our game, and as soon as the game started, it began to rain like hell.

The fourth, and worst factorwas that without coach *R*, some of the girls are... not as sharp as they should be. The result of all of this was a 2-2 tie. 

I know, a tie isn't a loss... but having a tie with this team is as good as a loss. Our team was contact averse, the forwards stood around and waited to be annointed with perfect set-ups for shots on-goal; the defenders stood around and allowed our goalie to have to face a two on one situation more than once (*only resulting in one goal for them*); and our goalie making a crucial mistake on a goal kick in the last eight or ten minutes of the game.

Oh, and don't even get me started on the kid who had FOUR fouls for not keeping her feet on the ground during a throw-in. Oh, and the one who doesn't like wearing her glasses when it rains, so she took them off and was then unable to kick the ball worth a crap because she couldn't see it!  Oh, Coach Gunfighter (who isn't coaching this season) wasn't happy.  I was satisfied with how Soccergirl played, even with the one costly mistake she made... considering that this was her first start, and was playing in the rain, she did well. She stopped about 7 shots on-goal, and only allowed 2.

I'm looking forward to a better result next week.

The Emmy Awards: A Gunfighter Recap

I am sitting at my desk, listening to The Electric Light Orchestra play "Turn To Stone", typing this as fast as my sausage-like fingers can manage, because in a very few minutes, I have to try to turn two ridiculously bad shooters into officers who are expected to be proficient at the agency standard.  If anyone can do it, it's me.  I'm that good... but at least one of them may be beyond my powers.

Anyway, I don't want to talk about them today (I'll tell you how they turned out after I finish their training on Friday), what I want to talk about is last night's Emmy Award show.  I was more keen to watch this year's Emmy show than I have been in a long time, because this year, I actually have a friend in the business who is up for an award!  That's right, a fellow blogger, one who reads my blog regularly (see? I'm waving in the direction of California as I type this), is in the business, and is up for an Emmy!  I'm so proud.  For real.  This person is a very nice lady, and I hope she wins.

Let's talk for just a minute about my relationship with television.  I love television.  I am not one of those people that believes that television is the bane of intellectual existence.  TV provides entertainment, and in some cases education.  It is up to the individual what s/he wants to watch.  Television doesn't rot the brain.  The brain-dead dopes who spend ALL of their time watching television would be brain-dead dopes even without them.  The thing about my particular television viewing is that I watch very few network television shows, and hence my small problem with the Emmy awards.

I will cheer for some shows and some performers for varying reasons, but it is almost never because I watch the shows.  I've never seen Grey's Anatomy, CSI, Mad Men (even with that smokin' hot Christina Whatshername), Two and A Half Men, or even Lost, so I have very little emotional investment... but what I do have is a track record of being personally responsible for the destruction of great shows.  For some reason, if I enjoy a TV show, it is the kiss of death.  I don't get it... but my favorite shows almost always get canceled.

OK, so the Emmy's... I missed all of the Red Carpet stuff, because I was busy feeding my family, and trying to get the weekend's soccer laundry done.  So I sat down on the stroke of eight with a pint of "Dead Guy" Ale at my side.   Neil Patrick Harris (NPH for the rest of this post) opens the show... clearly, this show is going to be "funny", with an emphasis on the quotation marks.  So let's get on with it.

Kristin Chenoweth wins best supporting actress in a comedy for her role in Pushing Daisies... another show I have never seen.  The very petite Ms. Chenoweth weeps and squeaks through her acceptance speech, while I sat seething about her beating out Amy Poelher and Kristin Wiig.  Having said all of that, I have to ask what the hell the nominees trying to do with that stupid sight gag with the weird glasses?

Wednesday, Sept. 23

OK, I started this on Monday, and I have been too busy to finish it, having taken up residence in Firearms Instructor Hell...so I am going to abandon my detailed format and say simply, that this year's Emmy show was putrid.  The writing was awful, the gags were awful, it was just awful all around.  The only bright spot was Neil Patrick Harris' efforts as host.  I think that NPH is a great actor, even though I will always look at him and see Doogie Howser, M.D., in my mind's eye.

The people who produced this show will have one advantage for next year... they can use THIS year's show as an example of how to crash and burn in a spectacular manner.

Oh, and my friend won her Emmy!  I am so proud.

Playlist: 1970's Soul Playlist

Hi, it's me... the musical Gunfighter.  I enjoyed posting my 25 most-played songs from my Ipod last week, so I thought I would bore you beyond belief with another playlist from said Ipod.  This list is of the songs I have on my 1970's Soul playlist.

It's the bomb.  For realz.

Let's Stay Together - Al Green

Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology) - Marvin Gaye

Oh Girl - The ChiLites

I'll Be There - The Jackson 5

If Loving You Is Wrong - Luther Ingraham

I'll Be Around - The Spinners

Kiss and Say Goodbye - The Manhattans

This Will Be (an everlasting love) - Natalie Cole

Turn back The Hands of Time - Tyrone Davis

She's Gone - Tavares

Betcha Bye-Golly Wow - The Stylistics

Break up To Make Up - The Stylistics

Do You Feel Me - Anthony Hamilton*

Have You Seen Her? - The ChiLites

I'm Stone In Love With You - The Stylistics

Toby - The ChiLites

Where Is The Love? - Donny Hathaway & Roberta Flack

You Are Everything - The Stylistics

You Make Me Feel Brand New - The Stylistics

What Is Hip? - Tower of Power

It's A Family Affair - Sly & The Family Stone

Soul Finger - The Bar-Kays

This Time It's Real - Tower of Power

Everyday People - Sly & The Family Stone**

Thank You (Falettinmebemicelf again) - Sly & The Family Stone

I Want To Take You Higher - Sly & The Family Stone***

You've Made Me So Very Happy - Blood, Sweat & Tears****

Notes:

*  Although this song is from the soundtracl of the 2007 film American Gangster, it fits so completely in the 1970's soul/R&B genre that I have in on my 1970's Soul playlist.  If you haven't heard of it, I suggest you find a way to do so.  Really.

**Released in 1968, but it still belongs here.

***Released in 1969, but it still belongs here.

****Released in 1969, and belongs here because it doesn't really work in any of my other playlists.

Cooking with Gunfighter (aww yeah!)

I’ve been under a fair amount of stress lately.  I mean… there is a lot going on in my life:  School started last week, and there are scheduling changes taking place that we all have to get used to; Soccer season just started (we racked up a tie L), which means two practices a week; Girl Scouting resumes tomorrow night; and Kanye West and I have a personal beef going on.  With all of that going on, I am sure you can understand why I am stressed out.  Add to all of that, it’s the end of the quarterly training cycle, and all of the shooter-come-lately types are emerging from the woodwork to reqaulify with their pistols, rifles, and shotguns.

Hoo boy!

When I am feeling stressed out, I tend to make comfort food items for dinner (which may be the death of me), tonight is no different.  Tonight I am making Meatloaf A` la Gunfighter.  Now, I totally cribbed this recipe from my 2^nd best girl in the world, Paula Deen, but I have a theory about recipe ownership.  You see, I believe that after the second time you make a recipe, learn it’s high points, and discover ways to change it to suit you, it really isn’t the recipe of the originator.  So, this is my recipe, now… which doesn’t mean that I don’t still have mad Gunfighter love for Paula Deen.  Paula, if you are reading this, please know that I love you baby, and I am just waiting for you to say the word (just don’t tell Mrs. Gunfighter… she probably wouldn’t appreciate it).

Where was I?  Oh.  Meatloaf.  Right.  OK, let’s get this party started, shall we?  First , you have to lay the ground work for a good meatloaf, which means you have to go get the stuff to make it.  I already knew that I was going to make meatloaf sometime this week, so Sunday, after church, I went to Wegmans (awwww yeah!) and bought a package of meatloaf mix (ground beef and veal) and a package of ground turkey.  I also bought some bacon, and some shredded sharp cheddar cheese.  I bought a few other things as well, but one thing I have to remind you to get is this: a large bottle of red wine.  Now, I don’t mean spend a large sum of money on this wine, because yours truly is a Philistine when it comes to wine… get the big screw-top bottle.

OK, now go home, and clear the decks for cooking like a gunfighter! (NOTE:  You don’t have to own any firearms to do this)

Get out your wine, and pour yourself a glass.  Go to the stereo and put on some music (I started with Chris Sligh tonight, and then moved on to the Christian/Gospel play list on my Blackberry)… you can listen to whatever you like… I suspect that I will be hitting my Led Zeppelinplay list before I’m done.  Anyway, music is set.  Let’s cook!

Get out your favorite frying pan, and the package of bacon.  Fry ten (Yes, I said ten) slices of bacon until crispy.  Get out a big-ass mixing bowl and put in your meatloaf mix.  Next, add two eggs… or three if you like.  Add a heaping tablespoon of pesto.  Add a cup of Italian bread crumbs.  Add a quarter cup of spicy mustard (I used a horseradish/Dijon combination), salt and pepper, and one and a half teaspoons of Old Bay seasoning.

Take a moment to think about your saintly grandmother as you listen to David Phelps sing “How Great Thou Art” (her favorite hymn), wipe away a tear, and continue.

Add a few vigorous dashes of Worcestershire sauce; crumble the six pieces of crispy bacon (yes, six.  Because you ate two, and gave two to your darling bacon pirate of a ten year old child), and add of a handful of the cheddar cheese.

Preheat the oven to 385 degrees.

Um, to review. Have wine, put stuff in a big bowl, mix thoroughly, but gently.  Preheat oven.  Maybe you should preheat the oven first.  Anyway, you are at the point that you are going to do something important:  It’s time to improvise.  As you listen to TD Jakes sing “Give Thanks”, add things that you might like.  I added a few more splashes of Worcestershire sauce and a little tobacco sauce, about a cup of French Fried onions, and some more cheese.

This is the point in the recipe where I have to give you a warning, my friends.  If you are trying to blog while you cook, please make sure that you wash your hands frequently, lest you make a real mess of your laptop.

OK, meatloaf assembled… I hope I didn’t leave anything out.  Spray a casserole dish with cooking spray (I used Wegmans Olive Oil spray), put that bad-boy in the oven, covered with aluminum foil for thirty or forty minutes.  After the timer gives you the beeps, remove the foil, pour off the (considerable) excess fat, and season as you please.  Put it back in the oven for ten minutes.  After the ten minutes, spread Ketchup/barbecue sauce/spaghetti sauce or whatever you like, over the top of the loaf, and put it, uncovered back in the oven for 15 minutes.  Go back to your lap top, and finish off your blog post as you listen to Hillsong United sing “One Day”.

OK, this part is important.  When your child has finished her dinner, had a little TV Time and has gotten ready for bed, pause and have some quiet time.  Tell her that she will always be daddy’s (or mommy’s) girl, and send her to bed with a blessing.

Just as you type this, and your meatloaf is ready to come out of the oven, your spouse comes home from a church council meeting.  Feed your tired, cranky spouse, and then send her off to bed to the lilting, soft, modulated tones of Nancy Grace, and Gordon Ramsay’s “Hell’s Kitchen”.

Now, go clean the kitchen and then fall asleep in front of the TV.

That, my friends, is cooking like a Gunfighter.  Improvisation and joy (and wine).

Question of The Week #1

"If you could travel back in time and meet yourself as a teenager, what three things would you tell yourself?"

This is the "Question of The Week" here at typepad, and I am only too happy to answer it.

The three things that I would tell my teenaged self woud be as follows:

1.  Some day you are going to meet a woman from a very rural place.  She will be cute, have big boobs, and a ready smile.  STAY AWAY FROM HER.  No matter what she does, no matter what she says, stay away from her.

2.  Keep reading, kid.  It's going to pay off in the future.

3.  You have a gap in your education, kid... the first chance you get, go back to school.

A Letter to Kanye West

Dear Mr. West,

For the sake of full disclosure, I feel that it is important to say that I have never been a fan of your music.  I have never been able to discern the "genius" that some people are, or at least were, attaching to your name.  That said, I would like to get straight to the point of this little missive.

You, sir, are a boor.  You have no class.  You are arrogant, rude, and clearly incapable of good and decent behavior.

In past years when you misbehaved as a result of perceived snubs at award shows, I put your behavior down to the general silliness of the entertainment business... I figured it was just another way of gaining publicity.  I was wrong.  You weren't doing publicity stunts, were you?  You were just being the ridiculous little prick that you apparently always have been. 

How sad.

As pathetic as your clowning has been in the past, your behavior last night at the MTV video awards was a new low, even for a little fellow like yourself.  In what mental plane do you exist in that you think that it is forgivable to treat a fellow artist with such incredible disregard?  In what world do you think that it is alright to get on stage and spew your opinions when someone else had the floor?

I have to tell you, Mr. West, your behavior was inexcusable.  I would like to call it childish, but I am certain that neither of my children would put on such a shockingly uncouth display.

I know that you lost your father at a young age, but was there no one to teach you how to act like a man?  Did no one ever tell you that you just shouldn't act this way?  Did no one ever tell you that treating anyone, especially a lady like that was wrong? 

Taylor Swift didn't deserve that.  She didn't do anything to you, or to Beyonce Knowles that could possibly have earned the treatment that you gave her. 

Personally, West, I don't think your are much of a man.  I think that you are a short, spoiled punk.  A horse's ass, a clown, a minstrel.  I used to look at you and shrug, now I will always look at you with scorn.

If you had treated my daughter, who is around Swift's age, with such disrespect, I would already have called you out to give you the beating... no, the spanking that you deserve.

Fatherhood Friday - All My Children

If you haven't been reading my blog for a while, you may not know much about my oldest daughter or my family.  You might want to read this, and this, before you continue.

Last weekend was one for the books.

A week ago, today, my oldest daughter, Fast-Pitch, called me from school (she goes to a small university in West Virginia, where she lives with her mother, my ex-wife) to tell me that she was going to be in Washington, DC for the weekend with some friends, and that she would be arriving on Saturday afternoon.

I was really happy about that for several reasons, first because I hadn't seen Fast-Pitch in a long while; second, because SoccerGirl has really been missing her big sister; and third, because Fast-Pitch has been in some conflict with her mother for the past several months, and I wanted to talk to her face-to-face about that.

On Saturday morning, about an hour after the announced departure time, I called Fast-Pitch to see about a projected arrival time... only to find out that they hadn't left yet, and might not for some time.  Turns out that they weren't as organized as they might have been... which is just a shock for a bunch of twenty-somethings, right?  They finally arrived at their hotel at around 10 PM!  Anyway, it was good to know that they arrived safely, and we made plans to meet in the morning for breakfast, before they started their running around in the city (SoccerGirl wanted to hang with them, but I thought that it would be a bit of a drag to inflict a ten-year-old on them).

Due to a bit of miscommunication about the location of their hotel (totally my fault.  I'll own that),SoccerGirl and I arrived late, and so only got to spend about 20 minutes with her sister.  SoccerGirl was very upset about this.  Very upset.  she thought that she wasn't going to get to see Fast-Pitch again on this trip, and she cried for most of the drive home.  I told her that we would see her sister in the morning, for breakfast, and that she didn't need to to worry about it, but she wasn't having any of that.  She didn't speak to me for hours.

This was a new thing.  It was the first time that I was had ever received the silent treatment from my darling, daddy's girl, child.  I felt like crap.  I knew that there was nothing to be done about it... I apologized profusely, but....

Anyway, it was later in the day when she relaxed enough to tell me that she was looking forward to seeing her sister again on Monday morning.

The great thing about that day came in the late afternoon when Fast-Pitch was down on the National Mall with her friends, and walked past the carousel that is in front of the main Smithsonian building.  She remembered that when she was little, before she and her mother went back to West Virginia, that I used to take her to the carousel on the weekends that she was with me.  as a matter of fact, it was on a park bench right in front of that carousel that she met Mrs. Gunfighter for the first time.  I was thrilled at her memory of that place that meant so much to her and had stayed in her memory for nearly 15 years.

Fast-Pitch and I made plans to get together on Monday morning, and did exactly that.  Soccer Girl and I bounced out of bed early and showered and dressed in record time, and headed for Fairfax!  We made great time to the hotel (and slightly fractured the posted speed-limits)SoccerGirl and her sister gabbled on with each other, and laughed and giggled together while I watched (and even more when I went to get another cup of coffee), as proud a father as any man has ever been.  We talked about everything under the sun, and after two happy, too-short, hours it was time for Fast-Pitch and her sorority sisters to pile back (all 5 of them) into the teeny-tiny car that they had driven in, for the drive back to school.

It was great to see my daughter, who has grown into such a lovely, loving, caring, smart, faith-filled, young woman.  She is devoted to her little sister, who is equally devoted to her.  Seeing her was great, and only improved by seeing the two of them together.

I didn't accomplish much of anything at home over the long weekend... which Mrs. GF isn't particularly thrilled about, but. lovely lady that she is, she didn't bust my chops about it.  I have to tell you that I was feeling too good to think about it...  I was busy counting my blessings.

This post is brought to you as part of the Fatherhood Friday community at The Dad Blogs.  It's where all the cool dads are!  You should take some time to come and visit to see what my brother fathers (and sister mothers) are talking about.

Have a nice weekend,

GF

A Glimpse At My Day

Today:

Get out ammo (DONE)

Issue a shotgun to a new guy (DONE)

Activate Mrs Gunfighter's XM radio (DONE)

Conduct pistol and shotgun qualification (DONE)

Re-complete my security clearance questionnaire, and order new fingerprint cards.

Write notes for my meeting with the pastor about the upcoming Sunday school year (Done)

Put a hundred rounds through my M-4 (and adjust my cool new sling) (too many shooters to do this today)

Clean my M-4(didn't shoot it, no need to clean it)

Teach a class on methods of reloading a semiautomatic pistol (Done)

Conduct pistol and shotgun qualification(Done)

Put away ammo(Done)

Pick up soccergirl (Done)

Supervise homework (Done... well, done by Mrs GF)

Mow the lawn

Make Dinner (Done)

Clean up post dinner(Done)

Watch Project Runway while Tweeting and Facebooking.(Done... with an adult beverage)

Sleep.