Mystery Solved & Broken Pistol


Duh.  I’d overeaten at a Chinese buffet Friday night.  No wonder I didn’t feel like riding in the evening after I got home.  And Saturday’s lethargy is explained.  Maybe also why I nearly vomited two or three times Sunday morning.  Lesson learned.

Disappointing Machine-Part Failure


Astra Constable Leftside

Also, Saturday’s impulse purchase – a nearly new-looking Astra Constable in .380 – broke Sunday afternoon at the range at about the 80th round.  The ejector/slide-catch part broke – a long, odd-looking part that when pictured in the exploding diagram (Numrich’s diagram – click it to visit their site) as part no. 19 resembles half of the Enterprise from Star Trek.  So bummed.  If the pistol proved reliable I’d planned to make it my go-to as it was inexpensive and I’ve got a good holster for it, plenty of .380 ammunition.  Most of the information I’ve found on the Astra Constable indicates it’s a pretty reliable firearm.  Maybe there was a labor dispute at Guernica on the day mine was made.  I knew the Astra was inexpensive; I didn’t know it was fragile.  So bummed.  Behold the broken part:

Astra Part No. 19 Broken

Somewhat Disappointed

UpdateSite stats indicate you may have been looking for this post, but I wanted to update it.

I had already removed a Simpson’s cartoon character image that was simply unkind because I didn’t feel comfortable casting that aspersion.  With this update, I’ve edited out some profanity for no other real reason than that I found I”d offended myself when I looked at it again.

Having spent some time recently working with or in proximity to some the administrative types mentioned below, I wish to say that they for the most part impressed me as people trying to take sensible steps to make organizational changes that serve our clients while better enabling fieldworkers to perform their job tasks more efficiently.  To be honest here, I’m genuinely pleased when more information and experience allow me to revise a formerly held bad opinion.

What a surprise, my recent application for a state and federally funded master’s degree program was not accepted. Here’s an excerpt from the puff-piece biographical and personal goals statement that was required with my application. Excrement, they would have found out, anyway…

I am also interested in organizational leadership because an organization interested primarily in appearing to comply with mandates of the federal government in order to retain and acquire additional federal, state, and local funding is an organization that fails to assist in providing adequate outcomes to the population it was established to serve. Bureaucratic self-perpetuation isn’t a worthy goal. I want to exercise influence that has the effect of increasing power’s tolerance for, and, ideally, its ability to adjust policy and procedure to truth.

I honestly wasn’t expecting an acceptance letter. As I said previously, without management and administration sponsorship and support in the endeavor, it would have taken a miracle for me to get in to the program. Although unsurprised, I was somewhat disappointed by my rejection. On the other hand, as I inventoried my emotions and internal responses, I found myself pleased at another level because this frees me to pursue a degree in something I find more interesting. Because the universe I inhabit is personal and is governed by a personal, sovereign creator, I also take this as a sign from God that I should be focusing my best efforts on something other than the work I do for a government agency.

Not long after this past Easter on a paddling forum I wrote the following about working in government:

Yeah, about the real world thing…

I work for a smaller  agency that bases its goals on whatever policy fiction makes the ‘hats in administration and management feel good about their inability to manage, meaningfully direct, add any value to the process that no longer results in even partially successful outcomes for those who voluntarily seek the services we are reputed to provide. The real lives of our clients contradict the happy clappy politically correct cant of the memoes purporting to describe them, their goals, and their abilities.

When I paddle, I see contrast the bureaucratic “State” with the actual state – land, water, growing things, wildlife, other people, that comprise the state upon which a societal hierarchy has been superimposed. The one is better than the other. The one is free and the other is a model of soviet-style political correctness that enslaves to no good purpose those whose lives intersect its framework.

A lousy day on the water is better than a tolerable day in the office.