People like Sheelah A. Feinberg, who think that high taxes are totes awesome, are also responsible.
This past Tuesday night, I saw a post on a buddy’s FaceBook page that his computer’s CPU fan had died, and he was wondering if anyone knew where he could get a new one locally for cheap. It was an older chipset (AMD socket 939), so he was thinking he might have serious issues finding one. I replied that I might have one that he can have, made a not to look for one the next morning, and called it a night.
The next morning (ok, closer to noon), I was checking FaceBook, and he had posted that he had check several places nearby for a new fan with no luck. He was rather upset that ordering one would mean (at best) no fan until Monday afternoon (due to it being Thanksgiving evening). I quickly found the part in my computer graveyard, shot him a message, and went over to his place to install it for him. That’s when I found out why it was such a big deal.
I knew that he had been put on disability a few years back, and had to move out of his own apartment, and back in with his parent’s place. Obviously, that’s not a great situation to begin with, and adding serious clinical depression into the mix just makes it worse. I didn’t know about the situation with his brother.
Apparently, his brother had also struggled with depression. Unfortunately, he turned to illicit drugs to deal with it. Later, he apparently started throwing alcohol into the mix. My buddy’s brother ended up OD’ing and dying in his old room at his parent’s place on Thanksgiving two years ago.
So… you can imagine that he wasn’t exactly looking forward to this holiday weekend.
My buddy’s particular escape/coping mechanism of choice is video games. While having his computer capable of playing games taken away for a few days would normally be a “well, damned. That sucks,” it was a devastating notion this particular week. Me coming over with the needed part was a small miracle in his eyes.
Just thought I’d share this story. Sometimes doing something nice that means little to you can mean the world to someone else.
As you may know, I bought a Kahr CM9 a couple of months ago and it came with an extra magazine. Since the CM9 is a 6+1 9mm, I pocket carry the spare mag.
Well yesterday I went to the range and when I pulled out the magazine, I was greeted with this:
Yeah so that would NOT have been good if I’d needed it. But there was something else slightly more disturbing:
That’s the five rounds that were in my six round magazine. So I lost one somewhere.
So I just ordered this. Now I know why they make them.
Summery of call from wife: Help. Need to get into car. Bring swords.
Shooting up a blue Toyota Tacoma containing two Asian women after mistaking it for a grey Nissan Titan containing a lone black man: Get more training
Release audio tape proving you didn’t say the racist things you’ve been accused of saying: Get investigated by internal affairs, suspended, and expect to be fired
The wife and I recently took a trip to NYC, and we stepped inside a shop on 5th avenue to check out what they had. It was a nice Italian designer of outdoors clothes.
Oh… and the store clerk told me that there was a third floor that I had to see. Hmmm… the stairs were a bit hidden, but I was able to find them. Walk up the stairs, only to discover this horrible secret!
If you guys haven’t been able to tell by now, this is the Beretta Gallery in New York. The third floor houses both their gun room and their gun smith’s workshop. Of course, it being NY, they don’t carry Beretta’s pistols or “tactical” line of long guns, but the rifles and shotguns that they do have are absolute works of art.
I kind of chuckled when the guy behind the counter on the first floor asked if I was familiar with the Beretta brand.
I did manage to find a knife that I could afford (I looked at a hat I liked, but it was $140, and the flasks were $120). I’ll write up an post about that later.
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