What gets me is its name. Apparently it’s called the ALQ-167 Angry Kitten. Details at the link.
I’ve met lots of kittens during my life. I don’t know that I’ve ever considered an irritated, or angry, or PO’ed kitten to represent any real danger. Was this the best choice of name they could come up with?
Regardless, it made me smile. “Hey, enemy! MEEEEOOOW to you too!”
Why did they do that? Someone will have to ask them, but the narrative became a lot more complicated after the driver was identified as Sai Varshith Kandula. Needless to say, he didn’t exactly fit the “white supremacist” profile.
Now, in a move that is sure to spark much speculation, the DOJ has suddenly downgraded the charges involved. The original charges were as follows.
While authorities have not provided specific details on the alleged threat, the US Park Police said the man faces the charge of threatening to kill, kidnap or inflict harm on a President, vice president or family member.
The driver also was also arrested on charges of assault with a dangerous weapon, reckless operation of a motor vehicle, destruction of federal property and trespassing, according to the Park Police.
According to a new report (The New York Post), those charges have all been wiped away, and Kandula only faces a single count of depredation of property of the United States.
He had allegedly planned the attack for six months, with his goal to “get to the White House, seize power, and be put in charge of the nation,” records show.
Kandula was accused of threatening to “Kill the President If that’s what I have to do,” and praised Nazism and Hitler.
He was originally charged with threatening to kill, kidnap or inflict harm on a president, vice president or family member, as well as assault with a dangerous weapon, reckless operation of a motor vehicle, trespassing and destruction of federal property, US Park Police said.
His federal charges have since been downgraded to a single count of depredation of property of the United States in excess of $1,000.
Prosecutors told the court Kandula is not a US citizen, according to Fox News.
The first thing that jumps out when reading that excerpt is that Kandula is clearly mentally ill. To the extent that he has any actual ideology, it’s overshadowed by the fact that no sane person would think they could seize the White House and be installed as the nation’s leader. That makes the media’s rush to paint this as some kind of right-wing “white supremacist” attack appear rather silly in retrospect. There was no plan here, and I’m pretty sure a guy named Sai Varshith Kandula isn’t actually a white supremacist. Whether he’s a real proponent of nazism at all is even in doubt.
The other thing to note is that Kandula is not a US citizen. Given that, it sure does feel like the federal government is just looking to sweep all this under the rug, after the preferred narrative collapsed in on itself. Of course, I’m speculating, but why else would they go so soft on the charges after the fact?
In the end, I would guess that Kandula being obviously mentally ill was the biggest factor in downgrading the charges, but shouldn’t that offer a lesson for everyone involved? Perhaps the press shouldn’t jump to rash conclusions in order to try to paint one side of the political aisle with such a broad brush. And perhaps the FBI shouldn’t be displaying nazi flags like trophies without knowing the full context of the suspect’s background. Of course, no lessons.
————————————————————————————- Yeah I know that this has almost nothing to do with guns & such. But just when I think that I am way too skeptical & cynical. This sh*t comes around. Grumpy
A new handgun shooter with small hands may be best suited with a J-Frame
S&W revolver, originally known as the Kit Gun. This model 34 is the standard .22 rimfire version.
In the ’60s and ’70s, S&W had an ad for their K22 revolver with the headline “The Beginner’s Gun the Experts Can’t Put Down.” The K22 is a lot more than a beginner’s gun, but the novice handgunner who starts with a K22 is fortunate indeed. A K22 wasn’t the first handgun I owned — it was the third, as I recall — but it taught me more about shooting a handgun than any other before or since.
It seems the concept of learning the basics with a .22 has become old school. I get it. Many buyers want a handgun for defense and don’t like the idea of buying more than one. They buy a centerfire and they’re satisfied if they can hit a silhouette target at five yards.
I know of no better tool for learning handgun skills than a quality double-action revolver. For me, the K22 is about perfect. The first one I owned was a Model 17 made in the early 1970s. This was the model number assigned to the K22 when S&W introduced model numbers in 1957. The original K22/Model 17 revolvers weighed about 38 1/2 oz. The current Classic Model 17 weighs just under 40 oz., while the stainless 617 with a 6″ barrel is a bit over 44 oz.
Good options for shooters finding these a bit heavy are the model 63 with a 4″ barrel at just under 25 oz. and a personal favorite, the Ruger SP-101 .22 at 30 oz.
Here’s why I like the K22 and similar revolvers as training tools:
This Prewar S&W K22 with adjustable rear and post front sight was a gem
when first introduced and is still a pleasure to shoot 85 years later.
Dave’s favorite K22s are this pair from the early 1950s before
S&W model numbers were introduced.
Trigger Quality
A cocked double-action revolver has about the best out-of-the-box trigger break available. With the K22, there is virtually no perceptible take-up, creep, or over-travel and the pull is consistent. Just index the sights on target and smoothly increase pressure until the shot breaks. If the only handgun you’ve shot is a service-style 9mm semiauto, experiencing a really good trigger pull is a revelation.
Adjustable Sights
I have nothing against fixed sights; in fact, I prefer them for applications such as concealed carry, provided they are correctly sighted. The novice shooter is much better served with easily adjustable sights, especially considering point of impact can change as the shooter learns a more consistent sight picture, hand position and grip strength, and trigger control.
Ammunition Versatility
For target shooting, plinking and training, I use and recommend standard velocity .22 LR cartridges. A revolver provides the option of using .22 Shorts or even CB caps if reduced noise is desired. It used to save money back when .22 Shorts were cheaper than Long Rifles. These days one can hardly find Shorts for sale, and if you do, they often cost as much or more. For small game hunting and pest control, high-speed Long Rifles are an option.
Grip Size And Shape
If the revolver has a fault, it is the grips used on older models, which left a big ditch behind the trigger guard. On my older guns, I often add a grip adapter. Current production revolvers have much-improved grip styles and there are many aftermarket styles. Most revolvers permit the shooter to easily fit grips to suit their hand size or add features such as finger grooves. Synthetic grips offer an alternative to wood.
Safety
I hesitate to say revolvers are safer than semiauto pistols. Strictly speaking, the shooter, not the gun, is safe or unsafe. Still, when a novice is shooting a handgun, I feel more comfortable if it’s a revolver. After firing a shot from a cocked revolver, the next shot can only be fired by a long, heavy pull or by cocking the hammer. After a shot is fired from a semiautomatic, the pistol is loaded, cocked, off-safe and ready to fire again with a short, light trigger pull.
One way around this is to load one cartridge at a time, which is a good idea for a novice with any handgun. This does get old in a hurry. I won’t make a huge issue of safety and the DA revolver — I can only point out my personal preference.
Fans of SA revolvers may feel I’m slighting their choice. Not at all; I would as soon teach with a single action. In some ways, it’s even safer since the hammer must be manually cocked for every shot. I prefer the DA since the SA pull is usually excellent, plus the shooter may someday want to acquire skill at DA shooting.
These big bulls are maintained and fed solely for their stud services.
They’re supposedly not much good to eat
A dear friend came up in the 1930s on a rural Mississippi farm. Growing up on a farm is a bit of a trope in the modern era. Back in the days before World War II, in the Deep South, however, it was a common way of life.
My wife is smart, assertive and capable. She is also of modest stature. Friends tell me the only substantive thing I contribute to our relationship is the capacity to reach tall things in the kitchen. So it sort of is with guys of other species as well.
In the bovine world, the women really do all the work. At a farm near where we live today, the cows and calves wander about freely in a massive expansive pasture. The cows keep busy gossiping about cow stuff while feeding and grooming the youngsters. There seems to be a social order to it all. Then there is a single massive bull maintained by all by his lonesome in his own separate space down the road.
I’m told those big bulls are too tough to make particularly good steaks. That big guy is kept around for one purpose and one purpose only. He’s there solely to make little cows. Outside of breeding season, the price he pays is a lifetime of solitude. On my buddy’s farm, their big breeder bull was an enormous docile creature named Ephraim.
There is a strange hierarchy among cows. The females of the
species seem to do all the real work.
A fully grown bull can weigh more than 2,000 pounds. Even if they have a sweet disposition, an animal that large can yet still be incredibly dangerous. If they are by their nature grouchy, then things can get dicey quickly. So it was at another farm down the road from my friend’s place.
Their breeder bull made fine baby cows, but he hated everybody. One day a farm hand got sloppy, and the big animal crushed him to death. News travels fast in the rural Deep South, so word of this tragedy made the rounds in a hurry. Condolences were offered, and a plan contrived. The following day the big animal was to pay for his sins. His steaks might be tough, but somebody, somewhere would be willing to eat them. Now hold that thought.
It was getting late, and the light was growing dim. As my friend was cleaning up after supper, he looked out the window and saw Ephraim standing outside the pasture. Ephraim was indeed a docile creature, but he was still a big, dumb animal. Sometimes a good scratching against the fence was adequate to push it over. My buddy sighed and headed outside. He would return the bull to the pasture and then run the fence the following morning to mend the damage. By the time he got outside, the light was failing.
Ephraim was essentially a family pet and responded reliably when spoken to. Our hero patted the big animal on the flank and opened the nearby pasture gate. He directed the bull back into the enclosure and stepped aside to allow the beast to comply. Ephraim simply looked at him dumbly.
By now, it was getting late, and the man was getting tired. He gestured to the gaping gate and slapped the animal vigorously on its flank. The bull just stared at him. This time he let out a little snort. Now things were in danger of escalation.
My buddy retrieved a nearby discarded length of 2×4 lumber and used it to give Ephraim a decent prod. At that, the big animal turned to face his antagonist. He then glowered uncharacteristically and snorted like he meant it.
Such stuff seems cold and cruel to those who have not lived it, but farm animals exist in a harder world than do we modern civilized folk. Right, wrong, or otherwise, these creatures are raised for food. There is certainly no excuse for rank abuse, but there is little time or inclination for undue civility, either.
Ephraim pawed the ground and lowered his head. It was clear that the animal planned to make an issue of this. The beast had tasted the sweet elixir of freedom and apparently had little interest in returning to his place of incarceration. As Ephraim made to lunge at the man, my buddy swung the 2×4 and broke it squarely across the hulking animal’s skull.
The big bull was momentarily stunned. With a look of bewilderment in his eyes, he then turned and obediently marched into the pasture. My pal secured the gate and went to bed, both aggravated and confused by the evening’s atypical proceedings.
The following day broke bright and clear. My pal got up early, as was his custom, took breakfast, and prepared to start a new day. As he looked out the front window across the expansive pasture, he was shocked to see not one but two bulls munching happily. One was the expected Ephraim, while the other was the homicidal neighbor from down the road who had somehow escaped his enclosure on the day before his scheduled execution.