#Basic firearms safety course

[historyofguns]

The article "First-Time Handgun Owner’s Guide" by Paul Carlson on The Armory Life website provides comprehensive information for new firearms owners. It addresses the complexities and responsibilities associated with owning a modern semi-automatic handgun, such as the Springfield Hellcat, emphasizing that these guns are actually simple, reliable, and easy to use. Carlson discusses the importance of understanding firearm terminology and proper handling, comparing gun vocabulary to knowing basic tool terminology to facilitate better communication and learning. The article includes a video and encourages new gun owners to engage with the online community at The Armory Life Forum for further discussion and advice.

[yasmindifference]

so @aceofshitposts and I did a little challenge where we spent an hour(+ change) writing for the same prompt! the prompt was Have one character brushing the hair away from the face of the other and here's what I came up with:

Before Robin, Tim was a normal latchkey rich kid—nannies, housekeepers, postcards from his world-travelling parents. He took martial arts with his mother’s bemused approval, but it was all carefully structured, closely supervised katas. Neither of his parents ever imagined he’d need to actually defend himself.

After Robin—well. Bruce very much imagined he’d need to defend himself (ensured it, in fact), but he viciously hated guns. He taught Tim how to handle them safely, but no more than that. There were certainly no lessons on firearms maintenance.

Of course, Bruce never could have guessed what a disadvantage that would leave Tim at, here after the end of the world.

“Wrong,” Jason says without looking up from his own work, and Tim sighs.

“How wrong?”

“Very.”

Tim sighs again, louder, and takes the half-assembled revolver back apart to start over. “I’m not getting better at this.”

“Sure you are,” Jason says. He’s still focused on the gun he’s cleaning—his fifth, while Tim struggles to put his first back together. “You’re only fucking up because you’re rushin’ it. Take your time and you’ll do fine.”

Sounds nice in theory, but—“I need to be fast.”

“Can’t be fast until you’ve got it down,” Jason reminds him, which Tim knows. Of course he does. It’s not just Firearms 101, it’s Anything 101. He didn’t start at disarming bombs in under 15 seconds, he started with hours and worked his way down.

But that was then, back when he was a kid in the safety of the Cave, in danger of nothing more than Batman’s disapproval.

These days, taking too long to do anything—especially weapons maintenance—could get him killed. Or worse, could get Jason killed.

“Freaking out won’t help either,” Jason says.

Somehow, he’s moved on to his sixth gun. His sixth, while Tim is sitting here struggling with his first. He’s got three guns to clean, Jason’s got more than ten, and at this rate, Jason’s going to end up cleaning Tim’s other two while Tim struggles with basic assembly in a way he didn’t even struggle with literal rocket science—

“Hey, hey,” Jason says, and suddenly he’s there, pulling Tim away from the table and sinking to his knees in front of him, brushing Tim’s too-long hair out of his face to kiss him.

It’s sweet. Gentle, soft. There’s no force behind it, but it punches right through Tim’s panic anyway, like a little puncture to let all the anxiety spill out of him. Tim melts into it—into Jason—leaning forward further and further until he ends up sliding out of the chair and into Jason’s lap.

Then they’re both on the floor, a spread of half-cleaned guns on the table above them plus a gun on each of their hips.

“There you go,” Jason murmurs against his mouth. He kisses Tim again once, twice, and then pulls back to look at him. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Tim lies. In reality, he’s embarrassed that he almost worked himself into a panic attack over weapons maintenance—that Jason had to interrupt his own work to calm him down—but embarrassment’s still an improvement over hyperventilation, so…whatever. Close enough.

Jason’s eyes narrow. “Are you lying?”

Tim groans and buries his face in Jason’s neck. Jason, surprisingly, lets him. Instead of dragging Tim up by the hair to face him, he just cups the back of Tim’s neck, one thumb sweeping soothingly over the skin behind Tim’s ear.

“I told you it’s not the end of the world if I have to handle the weapons maintenance,” he says.

“It’s the end of the world anyway,” Tim mutters, and Jason laughs a little.

“Well, yeah,” he admits. “But still. What’s got you so upset about this? You’re not usually this picky about the division of labor.”

Tim laughs humorlessly. Division of labor, right. As if he’s contributed anything at all.

“Hey.” Jason’s hand tightens in his hair, and now he pulls Tim back, forcing eye contact. “What was that? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Tim echoes. He wants to—to laugh or scream or cry or something. “What’s wrong is that you’ve saved my life a dozen times in the last two weeks and I haven’t been able to do anything for you.”

Jason scowls. “That’s bullshit.”

It’s not. It’s really not.

The world is falling apart and all of Tim’s skills are worthless. He’s worthless.

Three weeks ago, a coordinated strike took out every power grid in North America. Not all at once, no, but ten simultaneous major failures took their toll on connecting systems, causing cascading failures until nothing was left.

They could’ve recovered from that. It wouldn’t have been easy or fast, but it could’ve been done.

Then the virus hit. In Gotham, the hospitals were the first to fall, but far from the last. A wave of zombies—actual fucking zombies, like something out of a movie—swept across the entire city (the entire world, they suspect, but haven’t been able to reach the Justice League to confirm), and hundreds of thousands of people died.

All of Tim’s skills, all of his training—none of it helped. He’s spent his entire career as a vigilante honing himself into a carefully, purposefully nonlethal weapon…and only lethal action works against the zombies.

If not for Jason, he’d have been dead the first day.

If not for Jason, he’d have been dead every day since.

And Tim can’t even pay him back by helping take care of the guns Jason has been using to keep them alive.

Maybe Tim accidentally says it aloud, or maybe Jason can just read him that well by now. Their casual fuck buddies relationship turned serious really fast after the zombies showed up.

Either way, his scowl deepens.

“You think you’re not helping me?” he demands. “You think I’d have gotten half this far without you watching my back?”

“If you didn’t have me to protect—”

“If I didn’t have you to protect I’d be losing my fucking mind,” Jason interrupts. “If I had to do this alone—if I had to actually think about what’s fucking happening here—”

He stops and swallows hard. Tim closes his eyes.

They don’t know what’s happening outside of Gotham. Their phones are charged, but don’t get a signal, and none of their communicators are working. Tim shouted himself hoarse trying to get Kon’s attention with no response.

And inside Gotham—inside Gotham—

Tim wrenches his mind away before it can go back to the Manor and what happened there. Hoping to distract them both, he kisses Jason again.

Jason lets him. Jason kisses him back. Not gentle this time: deep and hard, something filthy that makes Tim’s blood sing.

And when it stops, Jason presses their foreheads together, one hand cupping the back of Tim’s head to hold him in place.

“I don’t give a fuck if you can’t clean the damn guns, baby,” he says. “I don’t need you to help me keep us alive, I need you to keep me fucking sane.”

A sweet sentiment, but—“I need me to help keep us alive.”

Jason takes a deep breath, then another. Then he kisses Tim again and sits back.

“Okay,” he says. “I get that. But you gotta chill, okay? Your shooting’s getting better a lot faster than your maintenance is. Prioritize.”

Well, fair enough.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Yeah, okay.”

Jason brushes his thumb over Tim’s cheek, then brushes his hair out of his face again, this time tucking it behind Tim’s ear. It’s the kind of tender gesture that always puts Tim’s heart in his throat.

“Ready to try again?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

[peregrine21]

Firearm Training - Abby Sciuto x Gibbs'!Daughter Reader

Pairing: Abby Sciuto x Gibbs'!Daughter Reader

Includes: fluff, slight hurt/angst?, cute moments with Abby, Abby comforting you, soft Gibbs moment because he’s your dad

Warnings: guns, shooting guns (at paper targets) 

Word Count: 2395 (I hope this finds people who also love Abby bc it’s so rare that I make it to 2000 words)

Brief Description: Your dad (Gibbs) wanted you to learn firearm safety and how to shoot a gun after several incidents of members of his team and/or their loved ones being targeted. You did fine for most of the lesson but did not handle live fire well. You had an emotional reaction to it but tried to push through until Abby came up to comfort you. Your dad took you and her to get milkshakes and cookies after to help you feel better.  

~~~

Firearm training. You were here because your dad wanted you to learn firearm safety and how to shoot a gun. You weren’t fond of loud noises; you preferred bows and crossbows to a gun anyday. However, after several incidents of the team being targeted and even your girlfriend Abby being violently stalked by an ex, you could understand your dad wanting you to learn how to use a gun. Most of the team was there, save for Ducky and Palmer. It was you, Abby, Tony, Tim, Ziva, Director Shepard, and your dad for the day on a private outdoor range with one of your dad’s friends as the instructor. You used one of your dad’s pistols for the day, with “GIBBS”written on the side of the magazine. The guns were all on tables for now as for the first section of the day, your group was reviewed on the build and mechanisms of standard pistols and magazines. 

Sitting in a circle with the team, you learned firearm safety: how to carry and handle a pistol safely; the build and parts of a basic pistol: how to take it apart, clean it, reassemble it; and its functions: how to load rounds into a magazine followed by how to load and unload a pistol without shooting it. You did a few rounds of safety checks and learned to never assume it’s unloaded. You practiced dry firing it and the instructor helped you with your hand positioning and grip; your stance was already solid from your previous years in martial arts. The dry fire shooting felt easy going and made you feel cool as you heard the click of shooting imaginary bullets at the target. Your dad and girlfriend both looked at you often with proud expressions on their faces as you quickly picked up each concept and were doing quite well in the course thus far. 

It was 4 hours into the course and was finally time for lunch. After lunch it would be time to start shooting live rounds at paper targets. However, for now you all just gathered round and decided to go to a local diner for lunch. It was a 20 minute drive there, and despite there being 8 of you, you were all seated right away as the town you were in was remote enough for the diner to be sparse on patrons. You sat next to Abby, Director Shepard next to her, and the instructor at the end of your side of the table. Ziva was in front of you then, Tony, McGee, and your dad filling the other 3 seats on that side of the table respectively. You and Abby ordered fried chicken and waffles to share, your dad and Shepard got steaks, Ziva, Tony, and McGee got sandwiches, and the instructor got a burger. You all took your time to enjoy the meal in each others’ company, you occasionally leaning your head on Abby’s shoulder or her stealing a bite of the waffle you were nibbling on. After much enjoyment and frivolity, you all ended up returning to the range an hour and a half later for the second half of the course. 

You got out of Abby’s car and walked over to the range, Shepard and the instructor already waiting on the course as they rode with your dad, and Tony was close on the way driving Ziva and McGee. You, Abby, your Dad, and director Shepard were already set up as you and Abby were borrowing a pair of your dad’s spare handguns that he stored in his car. Each of your respective guns and accessories were set on the tables, now accompanied by trays of live rounds. Tony’s, Ziva’s and McGee’s guns and gear were with them already, and they would have to set it up themselves upon arriving. The trio soon arrived, and as they got set up, the instructor had the rest of you start with putting on your noise canceling headphones and safety glasses. You glanced over at Abby, adored at how amazing she looked even in the firearm noise canceling headphones and glasses, the headphones set against her bow topped pigtails. The instructor then called for a safety check, followed by loading your magazines with a few live rounds. You were starting to feel a bit anxious as you’d never fired a live round before and the instructor warned you’d need a firm grip to counter the power of shooting live rounds. Before picking up the guns to load in the magazines, Abby leaned over and kissed your cheek— likely leaving a lipstick mark— and gave your hand a squeeze. “You’ll do fine,” she assured you with a gentle smile, clearly noticing your nerves start to kick in. 

You lined up with the rest of your group, the instructor on your left to help with your lesson, and Abby on your right for moral support. The instructor led for everyone to begin. Each in your group aimed their guns forward  and the instructor made minor adjustments to your grip before telling you to place your finger on the trigger and fire when ready. Before you could do so, you heard the first few shots fired from the team and flinched, your eyes closing at the same time. You opened them and took a deep breath trying to brush it off and fixed your own aim. The instructor had held up her hand to signal everyone else to stop firing so as to let you focus. You aimed at the target, took a deep breath, and slowly pulled the trigger as instructed. On the outside you appeared calm, but it felt like winding a jack in the box until *BANG!* You jumped and your hands were shoved up as your body absorbed the inertia of the shot. You looked at your instructor and pasted a smile on your face as she told you that you’d done well. Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes but you fought them, slightly confused as to why they were forming as you didn’t feel particularly sad. You flashed your plastered smile at Abbs, and she smiled in return as she took a few shots herself. You still flinched at every loud bang, but you pushed it all down. It was fine, you were fine. You asked the instructor for some advice on how to avoid losing your grip again, “Uhh, how do I keep my hands from shooting up when the gun fires and keep my grip?”. The instructor moved you into position and put her hands over yours on the gun, “you gotta make sure there is no space between your hands and hold your (dominant) hand firmly with your (non-dominant) hand”. You nodded, giving an ok in response before the instructor took a break to use the restroom. Abbs had finished a few rounds and put her gun on the table before coming up to you from the side. She laid a hand on your back and left a gentle kiss on the back side of your neck, “I’ll be over at the tent babe, you’re doing great!”, she informed you before returning cheerfully to the tent set up for breaks and spectating. It was now you, Ziva, McGee, Tony, and Director Shepard on the range. Your dad was watching from the tent along with Abbs who had just sat in one of the chairs to spectate with him. 

You prepared to take another shot and aimed at the target when Ziva came up beside you, “Fix your grip, there’s a gap between your hands again.” You did as she told you and thanked her before putting your finger on the trigger and slowly pulling it again. *BANG!* You jump again and silent tears form. You try to push through and keep your gaze forward so as to not let anyone onto the tears nearly falling down your face. You take a deep breath your heart racing, fixing your grip before pulling the trigger a third time, *BANG!* Silent tears start to fall down your cheeks, still baffling you as you don't feel sad or upset. A sniffle tips off Ziva who leans over to look at your face. She notices the tears and bluntly inquires, "What are the tears for? You're only shooting at a paper." You feel bad for not being able to stop it and feel pressured to suck it up, responding that you’re fine and start setting up for another shot. Abby heard from the chairs set up at the tent behind the shooting range and immediately made her way over, your father Gibbs behind her. Your calm steadiness starts to waver as your hands begin to shake. You breathe, put your finger on the trigger and take your 4th shot, losing your grip on the gun as your hands start to shake even more. You bring your (non-dominant hand) back onto the gun and aim at the target once more, hands and arms shaking profusely and tears streaming down your face, blurring your vision a bit.

Ziva is baffled at your emotional state, giving you a confused look as to why this is making you cry. You didn’t really understand why yourself, you just knew you couldn’t stop it or hold it back even though you didn’t necessarily feel upset. You hear another couple shots  from Tony and McGee and flinch again. By this time, Abby has finally made it to you and pressed her body against your back, wrapping one arm around you and grabbing the gun out of your hands with the other. You turn and melt into her, tears still falling down your face and she rubs her thumb against your back trying to calm you a bit, “Darling, it’s ok, you did so good. You don’t have to keep going.” Your dad makes it over and looks to Ziva who is still perplexed, “Stop staring and take the gun from Abby would ya?!” You bury yourself further into Abby as Ziva takes the gun out of Abby’s hand and places it on the table. Now with a free hand, Abby turns the volume all the way off on your headphones to reduce the loudness of the gunshots. You look up at her. “It helps a bit to have the volume all the way down” she tells you as she holds your face and wipes the tears away with her thumb. You bury your face into her neck and she wraps her other arm around you, holding you close and whispering affirmations and sweet nothings into your ear. Your dad puts a hand on your shoulder, standing behind Abby to talk to you, “Hey, you did good kid. You can stop if you want to. I just wanted you to know how to shoot if you ever need to. Now you can.” Abby walked you over to the tent and sat against a table, keeping you in her arms as you calmed down, rubbing circles on your back with her thumb. The rest of the team kept on shooting, your Dad taking your place in the lineup. Director Shepard came over and leaned against the table beside Abby, placing a hand on your back and reassuring you, “Hey, you’re ok.” She smiled, and you tried to smile back in return, still shaking a bit. “You can sit over here with us while they finish the course, no need to go back out.” After a few minutes, your breathing had finally evened out again, and Abby brought you around the table to the chairs while keeping you close to her. She sat down and guided you to sit in her lap as Director Shepard sat in the chair beside hers. You sat across her lap, legs over the side of the chair, and leaned into her. You kept your head on her shoulder as she put one around your waist and left the other one free. You still flinched at most of the shots the rest of the team took so Abby pulled out your book to distract you a bit. She held you in her arms and read your book with you until the shooting course was over. 

Afterwards, the team packed up all their gear and put it into their respective cars, your dad packing up for you and Abby as both of you had borrowed his spare pistols for the course. Tony, Ziva, and McGee left first, bidding the rest of you farewell. Your dad came up to you and Abby, both of you still consumed in the book, and pulled it down to get both your attention, “Hey, how about we go to the diner for milkshakes before heading home?” You liked the idea. Shepard joined the three of you; she had felt like a mother to you and Abby. The instructor bid you all a farewell as she had her own car to return home with and still had to pack up the course for the night. 

Around 20 minutes later, you had arrived at the diner and been seated in a 4 person booth, you and Abby on one side and Gibbs and Shepard on the other. Your dad ordered a chocolate malt shake, Shepard a Vanilla one, and Abby a Black and White (think chocolate and marshmallows). You still felt shaken so Abby, knowing your favorites, ordered your favorite milkshake as well as a double order of chocolate chip cookies for you and her to share. Once the waitress had gone to put in your orders, Abby pulled you close by the waist and the two of you sat nuzzled up together. You remained like this still when your orders arrived and as you enjoyed the sugary rewards of the day. After you were done, the sun was starting to set so your dad paid the bill and you all headed out: Shepard with Gibbs and you with Abbs. She had her hand either on your thigh or laced into your hand for half of the ride to your house where she was spending the night. Your dad cooked dinner that night for the four of you and Shepard headed home at around 9pm. You and Abby remained cuddled up for the rest of the night before finally falling asleep, wrapped together in each other's arms.

[katjohnadams]

So, it is the end of the world as we know it.

This is not an alarmist statement, it's an unfortunate fact. But you do not need to panic, deep dive into prepper content, or load up for a mad max future.

The end of the world as we know it, this time, is going to be horrifically mundane, and you need to be ready for it. But it won't be fantastical and heroic; it will be surviving on a daily basis.

Understand food safety and prep. Trump will deregulate a lot, and your groceries are going to be more dangerous. Know how to cook things correctly and identify food poisoning quickly. Remember what you ate so if there is an outbreak, what remains of the FDA can figure out the vector quickly. Do not assume recalls worked and be cautious.

Consider a home food garden if that's an option. Growing food is work intensive but rewarding.

Secure your property. Make sure your doors and windows are safe. Locks all working properly. Be able to really lock down your doors if possible.

Take a gun safety course. You don't need to be a gun owner to be in a situation where shit hits the fan and an active shooter occurs near you. If, somehow, a firearm gets dropped at your feet, you should know how to unload, safe, and/or disable it safely.

Get as many forms of ID sorted ASAP. Assume that having legal identification is going to become a needed component of your average day.

Get medically up to date as much as you can manage. Medical services are probably going to be heavily affected by this administration, and not in a good way. Try to get that tooth pulled, that medication updated, etc.

Become a digital ghost. Scrub your online existence to bare needed minimum. Make it as hard as possible to ID you from your socials as possible. Wipe your timelines. Delete pictures. Do not hang your own ass out to dry.

Use secure communication and censor unsecured communication heavily. Communicate digitally as needed and assume it will all be subpoenaed. If it can be accessed in any way by law enforcement, don't say anything you wouldn't say to a judge and prosecutor.

Join some form of mutual aid group. Community networks will be essential for moments the shit hits the fan.

Be ready to assist those who will be oppressed and attacked. That will look very different for every situation, but don't take unnecessary risks.

Do not post on socials offering to provide aid in that manner. That just creates "justifiable" cause for law enforcement to target you. If you want people to know you will help them, be vague as fuck. Do not say you'll drive people to Planned parenthood. Offer to drive people if they need it, no questions asked.

If your socials are or could already be compromised, don't beat yourself up but assume that fixing them is a lost cause. Make new socials as anonymized as possible. Yes, you'll have to basically start from scratch and that sucks, but numbers on social media are not even close to being as important as your literal physical safety.

Have a living will that is known to multiple people and establish Power of Attorney with loved ones now.

Consider removing any bumper stickers that identify you as being progressive. Assume that vehicles with that will be targeted by police and vandals.

But most of all, remember that "the end of the world as we know it" is not "the end of the world, period."

The end of the world as we know it has come many times before and often tragedy follows. But so does life. The sun will still rise. It is our duty to adapt, grow, and be there to see it.

[deadcaptainn]

due to the demand (the very nice asking of one person who said i should) of people asking for this post here is a very quick guide to firearms and firearm safety! under the break

I will start this off with for the love of god, always treat your firearm like it is loaded. I don’t care if you know it isn’t, always act like there is a live round in the chamber. do not aim your weapon at somebody unless it is necessary (self defence). do not touch the trigger until you go to fire, this will reduce the chance of you hurting yourself or somebody innocent.

now that some of the basics of safety are out of the way, how about some photos?

this is a rather typical size concealed carry firearm, as you can see it’s small fits easy in your hand which is what you’d want for a handgun for self defence. the only problem with this is the recoil, this can be dangerous and it might surprise you (leading you to miss your target)

i recommend practicing, go to a local gun range or even find an empty field and get some targets (you can get some real cheap at walmart or smth)

practice your gun hold, your quick draw, getting good accuracy. these aren’t a mandatory thing, but it will absolutely help you in the long run (wrist pain is a bitch)

now buying a gun is gonna cost you a lot even the cheapest little handguns are still $200, now of course the more you pay the better the quality of your firearm. you also have to get ammo, which if the only goal is using it as a self defence weapon won’t break the bank (like $40)

now i am aware this isn’t the most informative post and is very much baseline, but most of the research will have to come down to you going out and holding one. i have my personal collection of weapons that feel nice in my hand and are easy to shoot, you have to find the gun that works for you on that

also one more time TREAT YOUR FIREARM LIKE IT IS LOADED AT ALL TIMES

[mariacallous]

Since the start of Moscow’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Russian authorities have begun integrating ideological and military-themed lessons into school curricula. However, their plans for the upcoming academic year are even more drastic. Children will receive instruction in combat training and learn how to use grenade launchers and automatic weapons, all as part of the required school curriculum. The Russian government has radically revised the list of social sciences, replacing them with militarized or ideological equivalents. Now, instead of economics and law, students will study “traditional values” and the “Russian world.” The independent outlet Holod explained Russia’s new educational model. Meduza shares an abridged version in English.

Russia's educational landscape has experienced significant shifts since the start of the full-scale war. In September 2022, schools across the country rolled out a new class called “Important Conversations,” a state-designed, “patriotic” lesson series meant to bring students’ spiritual and moral values in line with the Russian Federation’s National Security Strategy.

A year later, the Russian authorities supplemented this ideological teaching with military instruction. In addition to things like fire safety and first aid, students began learning “basic military training” in their “Fundamentals of Life Safety” classes. In 10th grade, they learn about the workings of the Kalashnikov assault rifle and “information-psychological warfare.”

Now, the Kremlin is looking to further expand ideological and military teaching in schools. From September 2024, “Fundamentals of Life Safety” will be replaced by something called “Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense.” (While related amendments to federal education law were made in July 2023, the program was only officially registered with the Justice Ministry on February 29, 2024.)

A child today, a soldier tomorrow

“Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense” (FHSD) is approved for students as young as those in fifth grade, but from eighth grade, the course is mandatory. Among other things, eighth and ninth graders will be taught about the tactical and technical characteristics of the Dragunov sniper rifle, the RPG-7 handheld anti-tank grenade launcher, the Kalashnikov assault rifle, and various hand grenades. Students will also study drill training, general military regulations, “the essence and importance of military discipline,” and “the essence of unified command.”

Instructors are tasked with fostering specific “personal results” in students by the program’s conclusion, including “a responsible attitude toward fulfilling one’s constitutional duty of defending the Fatherland” and “an understanding of the significance of the military oath.”

By ninth grade, students are expected to master skills such as putting on equipment and body armor, “assessing the risks of violating military discipline,” and performing drill exercises. Over the two following years, the program goes even deeper. Tenth and 11th graders will learn the basics of combined arms combat, how to set up a combat unit’s position, and how to use more modern firearms such as the MP-443 Grach pistol and the AK-12 assault rifle.

The FHSD program has between 136 and 238 lessons, depending on the grade level at which it’s introduced. Since schools can independently decide how many hours to allocate for each unit (there are still traditional topics such as disaster preparedness and response), this could add dozens of military lessons to those already required in the “basic military training” block. As a result, a significant portion of the school curriculum will focus on military training and preparing future soldiers for combat. 

The Russian authorities plan to tap “special military operation” veterans to help teach the new subject, according to First Deputy Education Minister Alexander Bugaev, who said the ex-soldiers will fill an “invaluable niche [in schools by transferring] their personal experience.”

These veterans will be prepared for their new teaching career at the Vertex Center for Military Patriotic Education at Russia’s Federal State University of Education. After just 36 hours of training, a former soldier can get a document certifying them to teach in schools. In addition to retraining war participants as teachers, the center will organize military games for children. Officially, the university’s vice rector, Alexey Ryabtsev, heads the program, but the actual work is likely to fall to his deputy, Pyotr Ishkov, who served as deputy education minister of the self-proclaimed “Luhansk People’s Republic” in 2022. However, details about the center itself and its educational programs remain scarce. 

Integrated ideology

Russian schools are also set to make big changes to core classes. Russia’s Education Ministry has already drafted a law that would replace social studies in sixth through eighth grade with something called “Our Region’s History.” While social studies will still be taught in high school, many Russians leave school after ninth grade to go to trade schools.

Less than half of the topics covered in “Our Region’s History” will actually touch on local history because the course is meant to incorporate topics from an existing discipline, “Fundamentals of the Spiritual and Moral Culture of the Russian Peoples.”

Course topics include: “The Traditional Family,” “Risks and Threats to the Spiritual and Moral Culture of Russia,” “The Russian World,” “Russian Language — the Basis of Russian Culture,” “Spiritual and Moral Values of the Russian People,” “Unity of Values in Russia’s Religions,” “Heroes of the Armed Forces,” and “The Citizen’s Duty to Society.”

Students will still have separate “Important Conversations” classes, but now state ideology will also be integrated into and dispersed across regular subjects.

Previously, ideological subjects could be mostly ignored. While they might influence awards at school, they didn’t have an impact on college admissions. Now that ideology has been added to the core school curriculum, though, related topics will be included on Russia’s college aptitude test, the Unified State Exam (EGE).

Students planning to take the history EGE are now required to know the reasons for “The Revival of the Russian Federation as a World Power,” “The Reunification of Crimea with Russia,” and “The Special Military Operation in Ukraine.” In 2023, only Russia’s annexation of Crimea was included.

In 2024, the list of topics students should know for the EGE in social studies includes things like “The Spiritual Values of Russian Society,” and “The Russian Federation’s State Policy to Counter Extremism.” Neither of these topics was on the exam last year.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

> The only hope we have is the more intelligent firearms owners getting tired of idiots making them look bad and deciding to clean up their act.

How, exactly? 

Shooting them? They can’t compel others, without using force.

Also, most gun crime isn’t even by legal owners. Why should a hundred million innocent people take the heat for a few thousand criminals again?

>There is no such thing as “civilian society” when cops murder with impunity and stand by while active shooters rage.

Define "murder".

Also, there have been several shootings since UValde where cops went in and shut down active shooters right quick. Most prominently, the TN school shooting.

>There is no “civilian society” when a deposed president inspires insurrection and suggests that the next civil war might occur real soon.

I bet you couldn't define "insurrection" in a manner according with any law ont he books, and you have no idea what Trump supposedly said on Jan 6th.

> If common sense actually existed, then  nobody would be allowed to purchase a firearm without undergoing at least a basic firearm safety course. But it doesn’t.

And yet, the amount of people killed by accidental firearm discharges every year is only in the triple digits. Literal orders of magnitude lower than gun ownership.

Weird!

“Common sense” would say that you should see if the law is actually needed first.

I also like how someone who uses "gun f***ers" wants to pretend they're the logical party in the debate.

[christiangrest]

CZ Pistols Multiply

Recently I talked about a new CZ Pistol that I picked up from Brownells, the CZ shadow 2 Compact. With a few hundred rounds down range of a variety of ammunition… both Federal 115gr and S&B 124gr, I’ve been quite impressed with one of CZ’s top of the heap offering. CZ has long been a company with a strong following from firearm enthusiasts and finally I could say that I’m starting to see what all of the fuss is all about. So what about CZ’s more budget friendly options? The P10 series has been around for quite a few years and folks really seem to like those. The P10 series is a polymer framed striker fire pistol that’s priced a decent amount below the comparable Glock offerings. When I got to looking at an additional CZ pistol, of course just a bare bones CZ-75 was an option, but that’s basically a blank slate for the CZ Shadow series. CZ does offer polymer framed SA/DA pistols, both the P-07 and P-09. So which one would be my next CZ pistol acquisition?

Enter the CZ P-07. The CZ P-07 is a compact sized polymer framed SA/DA pistol with a de-cocker or a safety that can be configured. The P-07 pistol is comparable in size to the CZ Shadow 2 compact and a Glock 19. Price wise it comes in $100 or so less than a Glock 19 depending upon the deal you find. IUt comes with 2 15 round magazines. Unfortunately those magazines aren’t compatible with the CZ Shadow 2 compact as far as I can tell. The CZ P-07 also isn’t cut for an optic which is kind of a bummer as I believe that all pistols manufactured today should come optics ready. It can of course be milled for an optic, but I’m planning on running it as is. The sights are a common fixed metal 3 dot sight system with a small trick…the dots are luminescent meaning they glow at night. These are not night sights, but give you some dot glow in low light. I’ll most likely swap them out at some point for a proper set of night sights, but these will do. The pistol also ships with a 9MM dummy cartridge for dry fire practice as well as 3 different grip back straps. CZ has put a lot of value into this pistol. The DA trigger pull is quite heavy, off my scale at probably in the 12lb range and the SA trigger pull is right at a consistent 5lb. A spring swap can make a difference here and I’ve already ordered a new spring set.

So what do I think of this pistol so far? 100 rounds down range just the other day and it’s a really nice pistol for the money. It- doesn’t shoot quite as good as the CZ Shadow 2 Compact, but for a duty or EDC pistol, this one would fit into that role very nicely. I plan on spending much more time with this pistol and will probably throw it into my carry rotation at some point. If you’re on the fence like I was about picking up a CZ pistol, just do it! Head over to Brownells as they typically have a decent collection of CZ pistols.

[lizzyverydizzyyo]

D.E.A.N | Chapter 27 - Descent

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3

Wordcount: ± 5232

TW: Threat of Kidnapping, Slutshaming, Allusion to Sexual Abuse/Slavery, Weapon, Firearms, Guns, Light Claustrophobia, Gore

Little by little, their area of safety is getting encroached. They have nowhere else to hide. They have to run. Their charge has to survive.

Whumptober 2023 Themes (last 4 only):

Day 28 — Sacrifice | “You’ll have to go through me.”

Day 29 — Troubled Past Resurfacing

Day 30 — Borrowed Clothing

Day 31 — Setbacks

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

Mark automatically pulls down his own visor with one hand and grabs Nick’s wrist quickly with the other, pulling the half-Russian to the far side of the wall. Mark is basically putting himself between Nick and the portion of the wall nearer to Helga people. Some agents follow suit by planting their backs on the wall facing away from Helga people.

Anna and Agent Maxwell also pull down their visors quickly, but they stay put, not seeking shelter behind the wall like the rest of them. They instinctively point their guns up to start shooting.

The two sides exchange bullets for a while before Anna and Imani scurry behind the wall too. Mark is guessing those Helga bastards are also seeking cover as he doesn’t hear any shot toward the wall they’re standing behind.

“How the fuck did we forget to put our visors down?” Anna hisses. “They saw him and some of us now.”

The silence doesn’t last, of course. Someone from Helga's side yells at them.

“Give him back to us and we might consider letting some of you live!”

Nick pulls down his visor and shakes even more while inhaling deeply in fear.

“The fuck we will,” Don hisses.

As they stay quiet and do not give any response to Helga’s ‘offer’, they immediately hear another barrage of shootings. Mark can tangibly feel the machine gun ammos hitting the wall quite hard beside the loud sounds. He also hears the concrete starting to get chipped away bit by bit.

Something as strong as machine guns like Helga’s, and theirs too (although he doesn’t know if they have the same exact ones; they only had split second to see those Helga members before hiding), will eventually wear down even the strongest concrete after a while. On top of that, if they get hit on the body repeatedly once the wall gets broken down enough, their bullet-proof vests and helmets won’t do shit because they’ll be too battered.

Machine gun ammos are nothing like pistol bullets.

They can’t keep staying on the defensive like this in this spot, so Lena and Horace take turns now swiveling around the wall to shoot back.

The firings of the ammos still sound extremely loud despite their helmets’ visors being put down again and covering their heads. Nick is visibly more affected compared to the rest of them, whimpering endlessly while trying to put his hands on his ears. His mind is probably too panicked and muddled to remember that he has the bag handle around his wrist weighing his arms down, and that he has helmet on so his hands can’t touch his head regardless.

Lena and Horace step back again behind the wall.

“Fuck, what do we do? We can’t get past them,” Lena hisses urgently, “It’s too exposed and dangerous.”

Mark hears loud muffled breathing from the four of them who were just done shooting as they look at each other.

“Come oooon, you communist slut! Come with us nicely like a good boy you are… and we’re not gonna be too mean to you back in the port!”

At the disgusting sing-song voice of a different Helga member, Nick now shifts his arms to hug his own body tightly, muttering ‘no, no, no, no’. He is trembling so badly that Mark can palpably feel the shaking against his own arm that touches Nick. Mark can see those thin fingers looking pale as they squeeze his own upper arms in a death grip.

The others look at Nick, then to their right where they know that if they turn around the corner, they’ll face those Helga people again.

“We can’t let them get away either,” Horace states urgently and hurriedly as he looks back to the others, “They’re gonna tell the rest of their members that the real Bel is here.”

Mark looks at Nick, sure that the boy is crying despite not being able to see through the visor clearly. He then firmly stares at Horace.

“We gotta turn around.”

They all visibly look confused and even dumbfounded by his suggestion.

“We clearly can’t get past them here, because they’ll know he’s with us and will chase him even if we manage to get to our escape van,” Mark explains tensely, “but look,” he raises his wrist to show his watch the drags the screen to the left, seeing many pulsating dots concentrated in the center area, “if we bring them around their other members while we also mix up with our other agents, we might be able to confuse them again.”

“That’s too far, Mark!” Lena argues incredulously, “You’re just putting Bel in danger too by bringing him to the center of the battle.”

“Well, how are we going to get past them?” he retorts back, “and how are we going to keep them from snitching to the other members?”

They all immediately turn to their right again, instinctively flinching and bowing their heads down when the shooting from the other side starts. Imani and Anna swivel around to shoot back for a few seconds then return to behind the wall.

“Listen,” Mark tries again as the shooting is paused, “there are 12 of us here. Enough to protect him while we mix up in the center.”

They bow down again when the shooting starts, now with Agent Smith and Doctor Lowe attacking back. Mark doesn’t have too much time to ponder how adept the surgeon surprisingly is with his weapon before they return to their hiding position.

After that, Mark looks to his left shortly from where they came before trying to reach the back door. He then turns back to the rest of Claws.

“We can even contact Eclipse in the meantime to start being loud and making a ruckus again, so that those Helga handlers don’t know which members have the right info on Bel’s whereabouts.”

Horace tsks, conflicted and distressed. He looks back and forth between their right side where they’ll see Helga people as they turn around the corner, and their left side to go deeper into the center of the headquarter.

Unexpectedly, Doctor Lowe hisses out, “Fuck it.”

He immediately crouches-walk to their left side, basically making the choice on behalf of everybody else in Claws. They are too dumfounded and anxious to argue, so they start following the surgeon. While doing that, Doctor Lowe’s hand goes up to his shoulder to click several times on his upper vest, speaking quietly but repeatedly, “MA56 to Eclipse. Over. MA56 to Eclipse. Over.”

The physician hisses out ‘fuck’ again, clearly upset and a little bit more panicked that he can’t connect to the decoy team. Mark is sure that the surgeon and everybody else share the same concern that something might have happened to the decoy team, judging by their tense and worried body language.

Even as they crouch-walk back towards the direction they came from, they still feel and hear bullets from Helga people they faced before, seemingly starting to shoot again. It almost feels like those people know where Claws is going and are following them with their bullets.

He is unfortunately correct about that because even when they’re leaving the wall before they saw the backdoor, they feel the shots following them to their left side now.

It’s a good thing that Marcus and Agent Van Hoven are quick and well-trained enough that they can quickly pull back and push at Nick. They abruptly and effectively stop the rest of Claws—who are now behind them both—from continuing to walk. They will be going to the uncovered and unprotected area beside the wall, exposing themselves to Helga’s people’s relentless ammos, otherwise.

“We know you’re going that way, assholes! We’re not leaving until we get that bitch back!”

“Fuck,” Mark curses quietly after the yell from that Helga man.

He realizes now Claws is basically stuck behind this particular wall because those Helga members are going to shoot them anyway, whether they’re going to the right or left. It’s not helping that they might have noted how Nick is dressed and therefore can easily track him down no matter what happens.

“How do we get away now?”

The rest of Claws turn urgently to Agent Maxwell, who is now taking the rear after the turn-around. Then they look away again. They’re really all stuck here.

Helga people start shooting things again, so Mark looks towards Agent Van Hoven beside him. They both nod to each other before swiveling to the other side of the wall, now that they’re the closest to the edge this time. They start shooting back continuously until they see that Helga people are crouching again and hiding for cover.

“We need to make a break for it,” Agent Van Hoven immediately tells the rest of them with rapid breathing after he and Mark go back to hiding behind the wall, “We need to immediately go to the center now.”

Mark can tell from their body language that they don’t like the sound of that, but they dejectedly nod anyway when they realize they really have no choice. They need to confuse Helga people and get the help of other agents to protect Nick, and also to shake off Helga members from their backs who have seen Nick to make sure Nick’s delivery is safe.

“Okay, three of us—” Mark informs the rest of them while pointing at himself, Agent Van Hoven, and Don, “—will cover you all while you go there.” Mark now cocks his head to the side where there is another wall they can go to that is more closed-off. That way, they’re not exposed to Helga people anymore.

The other 8 agents nod gravely at him, and that’s all he needs to see to swivel around the wall with the other two agents. He, Agent Van Hoven, and Don are walking sideways to keep facing and shooting those Helga members, providing cover for the crouching Claws agents and Nick so that they can cross to the other side.

“Aghr,” he cries out, staggering backward slightly as he feels several bullets hitting his lower abdomen. The power of Helga’s machine gun ammos feels quite strong and painful even despite his bullet-proof vest.

He senses them pausing slightly behind him, especially Nick who is trying to stand up and touch him.

“GO!” he shouts instead, pushing them to keep moving until they’re safe on the other side.

While still walking sideways and continuing to cover the rest of Claws, he hears swearing from those Helga people, shouting at each other to fall back—accompanied by several thudding sounds of bodies hitting the ground. He doesn’t know whether they’re his bullets, Agent Van Hoven’s, or Don’s, but he feels relief and somewhat sickening satisfaction anyway knowing that some of those people are now dead.

Good. Fewer degenerate Helga members to worry about.

Once they’re close enough to the other wall they’re trying to cross, three of them follow the rest to crouch-walk behind the wall for cover. All 12 of them then continue walking further inward to the headquarter’s center, away from the Helga people they were just attacking.

It’s only now that he allows himself to feel the pain from the bullets before. He is sure that he is badly bruised under his shirt and vest, but no bleeding yet.

Which is good because there is no identifying condition or signs on his body to tell the rest of Helga's people which agent he is. Those Helga members will hopefully not be able to tell if Mark is one of Nick’s chaperone agents, so they won’t suspect the person escaping with Mark is Nick, if he has to go solo.

They start running again once safe from the group of Helga members they were in a standoff before, trying to find a roundabout way to go to the backyard again while mixing up with the other agents. They are thinking that this is going to work, but they see some Helga members again halfway through their run, although those members can’t see them.

“Listen,” Mark hears a static voice from one of the members’ radios, “we saw the kid there. We’re trying to follow him. There are two tall guys with a short woman and another woman who is black. If you see those people, the whore is with them.”

Uh oh. That’s not good. They’re snitching to this group now.

“Goddammit,” Horace growls, keeping his voice low still. He then instructs hurriedly, “Go faster! Don’t let them see us!”

Obviously, they do go faster, knowing that it’s impertinent that they mix with the other agents as quickly as possible.

But Lena suddenly pushes a hand at Nick again with Anna and Imani stopping abruptly. These new people happen to be turning in their direction. If Claws walked too fast and didn’t stop in time, those men would have seen them.

“You sure this lot are the ones who have our kid? We can’t see them yet,” Mark hears one of the men says to the HT he puts close to his mouth.

“Yes, I think there is also an old fat guy with a rifle attacking us before,” a person on the other side of the radio says to the Helga person using the HT, “and another really muscular guy, but not too tall.”

The static familiar voice belongs unmistakably to the man they were attacking before. Mark is guessing that man is talking about Doctor Lowe and Don respectively.

“That ain’t shit,” one man of the new enemy group spits out almost irritably, “There are other tall muscular guys and some fat ones too we saw before. These elite SWAT guys are all wearing similar clothes. We can’t tell them apart.”

Mark can palpably feel Nick sagging beside him in relief, as do the others who also sigh in relief surreptitiously.

Trying to mix up with the other agents and using the decoy team still seem to be viable options right now.

“That whore isn’t. He is wearing a deep red jacket under his vest. I saw the hood on his upper back. You can’t miss him.”

Oh shit. That’s bad. They recognize Nick specifically.

Beside him, Nick whimpers weakly, whispering ‘Oh god’.

“You need to get the rest of those pieces of shit too. They got 4 of our guys here.”

That’s really not good. They’re going to be vengeful and out for blood now.

Lena turns to lean back against the wall, breathing deeply and audibly anxious.

“We need to create distraction,” they say to the rest.

Lena waits for a while, but no one responds. They end up tsking in annoyance and frustration.

“Listen,” they start again, “See that?”

Mark and the rest of Claws look towards where Lena is pointing with their chin nod.

“Probably only few dozen meters away from the middle of this headquarter. We can all hear them, right?”

They all visibly strain their ears at Lena’s words.

Even covered by several layers of walls, they do hear other agents shooting, shouting, and running around. Mark also hears the crackling of his earpiece with so many agents trying to communicate one after another, audio relentless.

He is sure the rest of the people with him right now also hear them.

Once in a while, they also hear a booming and some screams, knowing that some explosive traps have been set off.

“You all need to keep forward there with Bel, while me and Don will go right there to the back again.”

Lena now cocks their head to the left where the unassuming Helga people are standing. Don immediately spins his head to the left almost in shock.

“What?!” he asks incredulously.

“We’re supposed to guard the backyard anyway. Might as well distract these men by going there together.”

Don, despite his head still covered by his helmet, visibly appears confused and conflicted.

Lena decides to take matters into their own hands.

They reach out a hand before the rest of Claws can process it, taking a block of chipped concrete and holding it tightly. Without warning, they throw it powerfully to the side so that it flies far out away from where they’re all hiding.

“Shit, those SWAT guys are here!”

They hear people from Helga now cocking their guns and running to where the concrete block landed.

“Come on!” Lena rushes Don.

Don falters a bit, but he finally relents and crouches to the left to follow Lena.

“Listen, you’re Bel. Remember that,” Lena says to Nick while pausing shortly with a palm firmly on his shoulder.

Nikolai frantically nods, so Lena crouch-runs again, followed by Don.

Just like with team Eclipse, Lena yells out, “Nick, come on!”  although more strained and whispery, probably to make it believable that they’re really trying to secretly run with Nick.

“I hear them! There!”

The team waits for a bit until they hear shootings, presumably from both Don and Lena versus those Helga members. Mark can only hope they’re careful enough not to get hit or injured.

After that, team Claws crouch-run deeper into the middle of the headquarter.

They keep looking down to their watches once in a while, following the structure of the building with its many zigzagging walls, basically retracing their steps before they got ambushed by the first Helga group they faced previously.

Mark hears clanging of bullets hitting some concrete and metals, and he sees the people in front of him ducking even deeper with hands over their heads. Once in a while, they abruptly pause and plant their backs on a wall—noticing some Helga people near them—so that they don’t get caught. Sometimes, they have no choice but to show themselves and return the bullets.

Mark gets grazed slightly, and so do several agents in Claws, but Nick is still unscathed. Even so, their injuries can be noted, and the more they’re injured, the less effective they are in protecting Nick.

Along the route they are using, they get more and more mixed up with the other agents outside of Claws, just as they planned before, and they hiss some short information quietly to each other while they pass those agents. Some Helga people see them, and Mark notices with heart pumping even harder and faster that there are way more Helga people than they anticipated.

Before Claws started running to the backyard for their escape vehicle, the briefing agents did say that there are more Helga people coming in than what they predicted, but Mark didn’t think it’s this numerous. He tries to hold on to the fact that the chaos does seem to successfully confuse Helga people, apparent from those members they occasionally pass by and attack.

Until a group calls out, “That’s the kid! Red jumper!”

Imani pulls Nick’s wrist to drag him away, crouching fast to hide behind some desks turned over to their sides. The rest of Claws follow suit.

“I just fucking saw the kid there before! Where did they go?” they hear again from different man this time.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Doctor Lowe hisses out.

Fuck, indeed, Mark thinks.

Even if they manage to hide at the last second, he knows it’s only time before they’re discovered again.

He has no doubt now that many—if not all—Helga people know what Nick is wearing, and there is no way their plan to mix up is going to work as well anymore.

Or at all.

“What do we do?” Agent Leonard says now.

Horace slightly looks over the desk only to duck quickly as he narrowly misses a bullet shot in their way. Mark doesn’t know whether that bullet is shot by a D.E.A.N agent, or Helga person. Whether it’s a stray bullet that just happens to be shot this way, or if it’s intentionally directed here.

Horace tsks and pulls up his visor, and some follow suit. It seems that the claustrophobic space inside the helmet is making them all more panicked and not think straight.

“There is no other way now. We have to run to the back again to get to the van. We don’t have time to go round and round,” Horace says firmly to them all. “We need to get to the backup as soon as possible. Otherwise, Bel is gonna get stuck here.”

“They saw us! They know that Bel is here!”

“Yes, Doctor, but we’re already in the middle of this headquarter and we’ve mixed up again, but clearly they know which one is Bel, so it doesn’t mean shit,” Horace explains.

They all look towards each other again then at Nick who is audibly breathing and trembling even harder while gripping the medical bag so tight. He is currently keeping quiet under his closed visor, at least.

On the other side, they hear more yelling of Helga people informing their own lot about the possible whereabouts of Nick. The voices, shootings, and hitting sounds get closer and closer to where they’re hiding, as shown by their watches too with brown pulsating dots approaching their spot.

“Give me your jacket,” Robert suddenly says to Nick with an arm put out.

The others, including Nick, look at him in puzzlement.

“Give me your jacket,” he repeats more firmly, “I need to distract them so that you can go.”

“What? How?” Agent Maxwell asks, still as confused as the rest of them.

“I can pretend to be him and go with some of you to be the new decoy team.”

He can see understanding and agreement dawning on the faces around him.

“No,” Nick says firmly while slamming up his visor, now aware of what Agent Van Hoven is planning. Nick looks furious.

“Bel… that might work. We can safely deliver you to the backup team that way,” Mark now responds, more comfortable and at ease now with calling Nick something else.

“No, absolutely not. I’m not about to throw someone under the bus,” Nick states again, even more adamant. “If I’m gonna go, I’m going together with all of you.”

"Look, they already saw you. They know what clothes you're wearing," Agent Van Hoven continues hurriedly. "We can't use the original decoy plan to just send random agents to a vehicle and drive away. Helga guys aren't gonna take the bait."

Robert peeks over the desk for a bit.

“God knows where Eclipse even is at this point.”

Nick has a petulant face. He is not budging.

"I'm the only one here with body shape similar enough to become your decoy. No one else is. Right now, we need to distract them so you can get out of here," Robert tells him again, probably hoping that technical explanation will sway Nick.

Robert's head turns around a bit to see behind him again. They're still not spotted yet, but the clash is getting closer.

"But they're gonna kill you if they find out you’re false me!" Nick hisses to be quiet, although his face looks somewhat angry and aghast by the idea.

"We can take care of ourselves, all right?" Robert tries to encourage him again.

"I made that server to save my own ass and that got a lot more people hurt," Nick argues again with a determined voice, "I'm not gonna sacrifice someone else to save myself again."

Some agents—like 1082's commanding officer Agent Imani Maxwell, Doctor Lowe, and Agent Barbara Smith from 1023—hiss in frustration, while Anna massages the bridge of her nose, whispering "god fucking dammit". Angie, Horace, and Agent Harry Leonard message their temples instead. Even Mark feels irritated and impatient by Nick's idealist steadfastness while in a dire and time-sensitive moment like this.

Unexpectedly, Robert's face softens, and he talks gently.

"Listen, bud."

His expression is without a trace of the impersonal professionalism that he had before, which the other agents still sport on their own faces. Robert doesn’t seem to prefer the same approach of being forceful and unfeeling towards Nick.

"We all signed up for this. We were given an offer to join D.E.A.N, and we took it. We're trained and paid for this."

He chuckles softly then.

"And by god, we're paid a shit load of money."

Robert's dark eyes search for Nick's heterochromatic ones, serious again.

"But you didn't. You never signed up for any of this. Not even creating that server. Did you?"

Nick still seems unsure and reluctant.

"If you need to know," Robert now has one hand on Nick's shoulder with an earnest look, "this is legit the first time in my D.E.A.N career—no, in my life—that I feel like I'm doing something useful and meaningful. Something bigger than myself."

Even with the chaos of screaming and shooting and all kinds of ruckus in the background, Mark doesn't expect to feel the same softness displayed by 1034's deputy's face, and the same hope that all of his training—his informal training with Jackson his whole life, and then his formal ones with D.E.A.N—will bear fruit. That he is doing something right, for once.

"You're the key to bringing down Helga, doesn't matter with D.E.A.N or whoever else. You want that, right?" Robert asks with conviction on his face now, "destroying Helga so no one is getting hurt by them again and they can be held accountable?"

After a while, Nick gives the smallest nod, almost imperceptible to Mark.

"You're more important than any individual agent here," Robert continues, "than me."

He waits a little until Nick looks more receptive to his sentiment and words.

"So give me your jacket, and let us do our job, okay?"

They all wait with bated breaths for a while, seeing whether or not Nick is going to be convinced, so they can't help sighing deeply in relief when Nick starts to take off his helmet, unzips his bullet-proof vest, and pulls up his jacket. He hands it to Agent Van Hoven before putting on his vest and zipping it up again while putting on his helmet.

Everyone here is already wearing similar fitted cargo pants, so that's not a concern.

"Good," the 1034's deputy says again, his professionalism back on his face.

The light-brunet haired man immediately lifts his rifle strap from his shoulder and puts it down. He then takes off his helmet too before unzipping and shedding his own vest to quickly pull Nick's jacket over his head and his body. Right after, he wears his helmet and his vest properly again, then he pulls the hood of the jacket completely out from under the vest to make sure it is visible from afar.

"This is gonna hide my light hair so they will believe I'm you," Agent Van Hoven now explains while pointing at the helmet covering his head.

“Who’s coming with me?”

Agent Maxwell crouches just ever so slightly to Agent Van Hoven, as does Horace and Agent Maxwell’s own deputy.

Angie is about to join, but Horace pushes his hand on her shoulder.

“You’re our best driver and paramedic. You need to go with him.”

Angie then nods and crouches closer to Nick instead.

“As planned before, Doctor Lowe will go with Bel no matter what,” now 1082’s commanding officer is the one instructing, “for medical protection and…” she looks slightly at the rifle slung over the surgeon’s shoulder, “… other forms of protection.”

She then turns to Horace and Anna.

“And at least either 1056’s commanding officer or the deputy too. So that will be you, Agent Basset.”

Anna nods too and follows Angie.

All of them turn to Mark without saying anything. They know automatically that he won’t leave Nick even if he is dragged kicking and screaming.

So Agent Smith crouches to Robert instead.

Since Robert's rifle is already taken off when he was wearing Nick's jacket, he now shoves it towards the dark-skinned woman.

"Imani, hold this for me. Those bastards aren’t gonna be convinced if I'm suddenly good at shooting them," he explains again to 1082's commanding officer.

She simply nods, but Nick doesn't seem to like the idea.

"How are you gonna protect yourself?!" he cries out quite loudly, earning a glare from the rest of them.

"Don't worry about it. They’re not gonna injure me as long as they’re still convinced I am you,” Robert says hurriedly, pulling out the sleeves and the hem of the jacket too, making it even more of an obvious metaphorical beacon. “Besides, Agent Maxwell, Agent Leonard, and Agent Smith are more than enough to make up for my skill. As I’m sure Agent Fernandez is too."

Agent Van Hoven turns to Nick shortly to lightly say with a wink, "And I'm pretty crafty, believe me."

Nick still looks disapproving, but the deputy pulls down the visor of his helmet, effectively cutting short the conversation.

"Pull down your own now and go."

Agent Van Hoven instructs with muffled voice to several of the agents who have their visors up. They all follow Robert’s command, then lift themselves to half-crouch. The team for second decoy is turning to the left where they’ll leave the safety of the desks’ cover and out into the open, now preparing to commence their plan and basically jump into the headquarter’s battle area, while Nick's chaperone team turns the other way.

Unexpectedly, Robert turns around again and holds Nick's shoulder quickly.

"I'm really sorry about this," he says with regretful voice.

Before anyone can process it, he turns around again, saying "Come on" to the rest of the second decoy team. It's not until that team is far enough into the actual battle area that the chaperone team realizes what Robert means.

As the chaperone team starts to crouch away slowly, Mark sees Agent Van Hoven's right arm going to his front to pull out a rectangular device, which he assumes is from 1034’s deputy’s front pocket under his vest and Nick’s jacket. Mark doesn’t think he saw the deputy holding it before.

He then sees Robert raising his arm as high as possible, and suddenly, there is a recording of Nick's voice being played really loudly for several loops before he lowers his arm again.

"Please don’t touch me, don’t hurt me, please!”

Mark is in too much adrenaline rush and urgency to get Nick to safety that he doesn't have the time to feel pissed. He doesn't have enough space in his brain to fully process that Agent Van Hoven—or anyone at all—has decided to record some of the audio from Nick's molestation footage.

"Hey, that's his voice!" he hears someone yelling with a voice that Mark knows doesn't belong to one of the D.E.A.N agents here.

"That fucking whore!"

"He is going there, I see him!"

That's his cue to push Nick and crouch-run faster with the remaining chaperone agents.

“Go, go, go!” he rushes them from behind them.

He’s desperately hoping the second decoy team is effective enough to basically draw out most of Helga people to the middle area and away from the back, because he doesn’t know how else they will survive with only 5 people here.

He might have seriously fucked up previously by suggesting going back to the middle of the headquarter and converging with the other agents, so now this is their very last plan in their arsenal.

It has to work.

***

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

[renaissanceman5073]

The Death of Manliness

I've been thinking about this topic for a long time. Men in general, real men anyway, are becoming a rare breed. The guy that will go hunting with you, help you build a shed, show you a new way to tie a knot and have your back in a fight is just about extinct. He has been replaced by an army of Justin Biebers of various ages ranging from tween all the way to 45. I fear for my daughter. When she gets to dating age, she will be surrounded by boys that will never grow into men. I've really begun to question how we have reached this point, and I have some ideas.

Until recently, women had always preferred this rough, chiseled male who, while not in touch with his feminine side, could protect the family and ensure survival. The effete, slender boys idealized today are a sharp departure. Contrast, for example, the rugged good looks of Cary Grant with the slender jaw of Matt Damon, the boyish grin of Leonardo DiCaprio, slight shoulders of Robert Pattinson. Even middle-aged women fawn over “boy-men” like Robert Pattinson (of Twilight fame), the always odd Johnny Depp, and full time teen girl icon Ryan Reynolds. These men are all skinny, slight,  sweet-looking and play the roles of sensitive men in their movies. It is almost impossible to imagine a scenario in which John Wayne would not beat the shit out of Robert Pattinson, even with his vampire superpowers.

Then there is the second category of male icons adored by modern women of all ages - that of the loveable, boyish doof. These men often appear in female-oriented comedies like “the Hangover” and “She’s Having a Baby.” These men, like the comedies themselves, are crass, 15 year old bathroom humor, with lovable “cute” characters who in the end win the heart of some really hot girl. These “loveable losers” perfectly illustrate what women think they want - no competition from their significant other. After all, what weak-minded woman couldn’t dominate “fat Jesus” or for that matter, a 15 year old boy who fantasizes about being a vampire? I mean, she would have to be pretty dim-witted right?

So how did we get here and is it bad? Is this not just evolution? I submit to you that it is not working, and that it is bad. Both men and women are complaining of discontent at all time levels. Divorce rates are much higher than they were 20 years ago, which were double what they were 20 years before that. Our children are growing up less educated, morally confused and, frankly, not competitive with the emerging giant industrialized nations in the world. Our children are promiscuous, sad, and largely directionless.

I would suggest that women are no happier than they were 50 years ago and are, in fact, less so. The modern woman is expected to work full time, come home, take care of most of the house, do the heavy lifting with the children, talk about their days and then do Social Media to keep up with the family. Amazingly, in spite of decades of intense training, women are finding that men are still very bad at housework, not great at cooking healthy meals, and don’t relate to the children in the same nurturing way women do. It’s almost as if it is genetically imprinted upon men at birth that they will just suck at those things. 

Of course, some men don’t suck at those things, just like some women can pick up a rifle and hit that bullseye on her first try. Some women just don’t look as awkward handling a firearm, or field-dressing a deer, or throwing a football. Of course, most women do look ill equipped, as if by nature, to do those things.

The fact of the matter is, men need about 9,950 more years of training before they will approach housework or child-rearing with the same skill as they do shooting, fishing, or fixing things. Of course, since most men have lost those skills too, I would agree that we are basically worthless now. In fact, women are far more likely, by a huge margin, to vote for politicians who increase the size of the social safety net. Why? Because they are afraid of being left alone to care for the kids by their childish husbands. There is a more subtle and shocking conclusion to be drawn from this, however. Women are more concerned about the status of the social safety net than they are about their husband’s ability to keep his job in bad economic times. They have given up on us.

So maybe the girly tabloid magazines are right. Maybe women don’t need men anymore. After all, the modern woman is basically doing everything from the money earning to the child-rearing to the housework.

Well, they do need men because, in spite of the best efforts of society to convince us otherwise, most women are really unhappy. They are so unhappy, in fact, that they are beginning to ask the tell all questions: “where have all the good men gone”? “Where are the ‘real men’”? What they are really asking for is help. Not just help with the dishes either. They want real help, like the help that their grandfathers gave their grandmothers, but for the most part, that type of man is extinct. And to some degree, women have brought this upon themselves…

Men are no longer manly because women have generally forbidden manliness. It is a part of the natural selection process, and in modern iPad society, manliness is considered unnecessary and crude. As a result, women choose boys over men and ridicule the traditionally manly things as “silly” or “too dangerous” or “risky.” The feminization of America is almost complete. The first generation of girly men was the Baby Boomers. Women helped men rebel against the old male constructs of “duty, honor, country” that they felt led the nation to war in Vietnam. They used free and easy sex to sell the idea that men should explore their feelings, sing songs around a campfire, use drugs and generally “drop out.” The archetypal “jock” and “cheerleader” were replaced by the hippies, the “love child,” motivation-killing drugs, and promiscuity. And what guy wouldn’t sign up for that right? No responsibility, no one making you get a job, no one riding you about your life choices, free and frequent sex. What’s not to like? So you have to cry and talk about feelings around girls…so what. That’s a good trade for the right to be a bum your whole life and generally shrink from your responsibilities as a man.

Of course, life doesn’t end in your teens and 20s. Eventually it all catches up to you and you have to do something to earn money. Eventually sex, drugs and rock n’ roll doesn’t seem so appealing to a young woman as she enters her peak child-bearing years. Eventually, our biological clocks start ticking louder and we cannot continue to live like kids, even if we want to. The problem is, that generation had already defined itself as the childish generation, perpetually young, idealistic, and entitled. 

But many of the men of that generation found themselves ill equipped to handle big-boy life, like kids, wives, jobs, responsibility, etc. Many of these men had rejected those ideas in response to the siren calls from liberated women. Having rejected the traditional male code, they were left directionless and having rejected their parents with such vigor, many had nowhere to turn for advice.

Many men of that generation did not have fathers. Many men had fallen in World War II, or otherwise died young. My own grandfather died when my father was a young boy. As a result, he grew up without a strong male in his life. While he did an admirable job as a father, I can now see enormous the gaps in his development as a man, now that I have reached middle age. You wouldn’t recognize such things until you get old yourself, but then they become so obvious. I find myself saying things like “of course that single mother will struggle to raise a proper man by herself.” We are just so loath as a society to tell anyone about anything they “cannot do,” even if the result is completely predicable. 

Of course, that generation also became the first "divorce generation." After second and third marriages, the entitlement generation has left us a sea of little boys raised almost exclusively by their mothers, who in turn exposed them to boyfriends, lovers, other “male” figures that were neither biologically predisposed to mentor them, nor inclined or equipped to do so. They were also competition for the mother's love and attention in ways that a traditional father would not have been.

Then there’s my generation. A group of aging boys who were taught by female teachers in government schools that they must accept their female counterparts as equals or superiors. After all, my generation of males had to be trained to cope with the first female bosses. We had to accept women in the workplace as authority figures and commanders. We had to be taught to subordinate our desires to theirs, but not in a chivalrous way - it had to be done in a submissive way and in a professional context. 

This is not to say that women are not equal or shouldn't be commanders or bosses. To the contrary. I want my daughter to have all the opportunities my grandmother and mother did not. I am grateful to those pioneering women who paved the way for my daughter. But, as with every major societal shift, there were unintended consequences that have had a profoundly negative impact on both men and women.

My generation of males has agreed to the new social contract with women. Equality is preferred, responsibly for the breadwinning is shared and, in exchange, we are allowed by our women to act like boys, shirk responsibility, and pursue the childish things in our free time. If I were a woman, I’d feel ripped off, but there was no other way it could be. Men were always going to have to cede control and power to women if women were going to be successful in traditionally male realms. Predictably, women now prefer men with a gift for those traditional female roles, like cleaning, organizing, cooking, and child rearing. In order to be good part-time surrogate mothers to their children while their wives are at work, these men have to be sensitive and motherly. They have to be nurturing. These are not traits that are typically able to be "learned," however. The fact is, some men are just born that way. Those men make good nurturers. More effeminate men are more sensitive and better mothers and are now preferred by most educated women.

There are two major problems with this. First, if both parents are busy mothering the children, who is the father? Second, not every culture has adopted this post-gender model of society. Other societies continue to rear men who can hunt, fight, shoot, fix, assemble, and kill. Those societies, much like Spartans of Greece, will breed formidable warriors who already view us as soft. Our long term survival as a nation is not certain and will not be ensured by generations of couch potatoes, who shy away from athletics, guns, outdoors and competition. Were we to get dragged into a world war, or even a large regional war, we might find ourselves suffering a shortage of men willing to fight.

Men of my generation were confronted, as men, by the Penn State sexual abuse scandal. Jerry Sandusky, a 36 year defensive coordinator working under Joe Paterno, was arrested and charged with raping young boys, in some cases, in the Penn State locker room. Joe Paterno appears to have, at the least, done a very poor job of monitoring his locker-room, but he is not the worst part of the story. The worst actor apart from the child rapist, was Mike McQueary. Here he is, an ex ball player, 6’3 230 or so, young, athletic, no arthritis or heart condition, and what does he do when he sees this young boy being raped? Nothing. He turns away and calls his father and “reports” the matter to Joe Paterno. 

In our society, we have become so devoted to relativism and deconstructionism that a young man like Mike McQueary gets confused when he sees a boy being raped. Without the inculcation of moral relativism this does not happen. Decades of education, teaching us to cubby hole personal and professional lives, "sequester" a person's private life from their "job performance," has left many young people vulnerable to inaction. 

So, in the case of Paterno et al., McQueary begins deconstructing what he saw and what his reaction should be. He has been taught that he should "report it" to the proper authorities; that he has "no legal duty" to intervene. In fact, in our legalistic society, he probably knows that had he gone to his locker, retrieved a firearm and shot the pedophile, he would be fighting for his life on trial now. 

Such a legalistic view of the world invites inaction. After they "receive a report of harassment or 'inappropriate conduct'" they will "investigate it and take appropriate corrective action." Predictably, their "investigation" was "inconclusive." These are all tactics we invented as lawyers, judges and other regulators of society to prevent one overly-manly co-worker from punching another co-worker that he sees grabbing a woman's breasts in the workplace. 

Is this Penn State assault that different? Isn't it just a question of degree? Again, all of our policies, procedures, and "ethical training" compel inaction for the average man working for a university in this situation. Is it more ethical to do what McQueary did than to beat Sandusky to a pulp? Another man might have actually killed Sandusky, unable to quiet his rage once he got started. What if the old man had a heart attack while another man savagely beat his head against the shower floor? That man would have risked being prosecuted, even though Sandusky would have gotten what he deserved.

And the so called “middle ground” argument espoused by some is utter bullshit. “Well, he should have called the police,” they say. That is deconstructionsim at its finest. It does nothing to stop the rape in progress, it cedes all moral authority to a “higher administrator” of the law, and it does not impress on Sandusky or other pedophiles that the wages of these sins are certain torture and possible death and the hands of other men in the community. The policeman does little to deter vicious attacks on innocent children. If they did, then our police-occupied cities would be nirvanas. No, the “law” does not deter sick and violent predators from seeing prey. They are drawn to the vile hunt. They are irresistibly drawn to their prey, by scent, sight, and demeanor. They are just like the animals we say they are. Officer Friendly, unless he is right there with his baton and whistle, will do nothing to dissuade this man from tackling the boy in the shower and raping him. 

The fact of the matter is, traditionally men must sometimes take matters into their own hands - a lost art, and now almost completely forbidden. Occasionally, a man gets it right and takes decisive action at the appropriate time, and makes no mistakes. He saves the old widow who’s house is being robbed by shooting the intruders. The shooting is “textbook.” He yells out all the appropriate warnings, draws his weapon only when he sees the intruder is also armed with a firearm. The intruder does not surrender and in fact screams that he will not. The stars are in alignment and this man does not get prosecuted for his intervention. He is hailed as a hero. He got lucky.

There used to be many more “heroes.”  There used to be many more “men of action” and we celebrate those men as “the Greatest Generation” or “Pioneers” or “Frontiersmen.”  What we have lost sight of is that “action” is rarely, if ever, perfect. In a society that does not leave much room for non-governmental error, inaction becomes the most reasonable and safest route. In our “society of laws” inaction is the preferred method, leaving “it” to police and law enforcement to handle. Yes, you are “free” to act as a citizen, but only within the strictest confines, and failure to observe those strict confines will ruin your life with lawsuits, prosecution and perhaps jail time.

We used to leave more room for error. Men, especially young men, were allowed to make mistakes. In fact, young men were taught at a very early age that “all men make mistakes” and it is important to learn from them. But the mistakes older generations were talking about were not the same types of mistakes that we discuss today. Today “mistakes” means personal failings, like cheating on your wife, drinking too much, gambling, using drugs. Personal failings were not well accepted by older generations. To them "mistakes" meant mistakes of a tactical nature - like “friendly fire."

Now, even for children, the consequences of making a mistake are so severe, that parents have almost no choice but to insist their children become students of inaction. Consider that 5th graders can be expelled for “sexual harassment.” A young man that brings a knife to school is expelled and may lose a chance to go to college. A boy caught drinking - gone; smoking - gone; fighting - gone and prosecuted. They now even prosecute teenage boys and girls who text naked pictures of themselves. It is only a matter of time until “doctor” and “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” becomes “sexual assault” punishable under the “three strikes” laws. Repeat offenders will be required to “register on the sexual predator” list in their community. So what do you tell your kids?  "Don’t do ANYTHING that could get you in trouble." 

All of that aside, women are not being taught to respect men. Men have traditionally been taught by both mothers and fathers to respect women. They have not always done so for sure. Society has disrespected women historically, for certain. There is no debating that. But, what is worth looking at is the modern trend to devalue boys. As we’ve discussed already, girls are taught that most things male are either dirty, simplistic, or threatening to their own identities. Boys are, quite simply, bad. Male traits are denigrated while female traits are lauded. In our schools, male aggressiveness is equated to war, destruction and the possible extinction of civilization through conflict. Male logic is equated to insensitivity, provincialism, clumsiness. Male competitiveness is equated to self doubt, childishness, or sexual insecurity. Competition has been replaced with an  “everyone gets a trophy,” “everyone’s a winner” philosophy. Aggressive, combative games that boys have always played, like “kill the man with the ball,” “dogpile,” and even “tag” have been banned from many school playgrounds. Martial skills like “riflery” and “archery” are no longer taught in schools. Boys are encouraged now to cry when they are hurt, to put aside prideful male pain-endurance. The predictable result has been several generations of whiny, uncompetitive, fearful, passive-aggressive girly-men without any direction or motivation.

In contrast, the female traits have been idealized. All conflicts should be resolved through “effective communication,” which is known as “progress.” We no longer stand up to the bully with our fists, but rather by communicating our feelings of anger to the appropriate authority figure. The bully is counseled and rehabilitated through “effective communication.” Civilization is preserved by “breaking the chain of abuse” that led to that bully’s behavior.

Logic is mathematical, and is properly taught in that context to those interested in being engineers or lawyers. True enlightenment is now gained through empathy. Mr. Spock, the cold, sometimes callous communicator of the inevitable result of a decision has been replaced by Dr. Spock and a legion of empathetic PhD.s, ready to insist that little boys be taught feelings first and foremost. 

Competition has been replaced with cooperative exercise. We “work together” to achieve some intangible goal. “Teamwork” is lauded over selfish individual achievement. Decisionmaking is a cooperative exercise, also known as consensus building, rather than a game of “follow the leader.” 

Physical exercise or “recess”, for several decades at least, had been replaced by these cooperative exercises. Displays of physical domination, like “Battleball,” where little girls were forced to sweat and have objects hurled at them was simply too distasteful. “P.E.” had  to be stopped. That little experiment failed so miserably, however, that the “consensus” is now that (non-competitive) exercise is good. The epidemic of fat children, both boys and girls, has scared even the most sensitive mothers. After all, what good is a happy child if she dies at 40 of being fat?

Football is tolerated, but only so long as there are no concussions, broken bones, bloody and bruised forearms, or other violent injuries. The rules must be constantly changed to “protect the players.” However, shooting guns or arrows at targets (or animals) is no longer acceptable. When I was in school, we actually had a rifle class and an archery class. My mother was actually a very accomplished archer, which she learned in her school. She was the one who encouraged me in the sport. Such activities are not even considered sport any longer. They are warlike and, therefore, frowned upon.

Finally, there are the unchecked displays of emotions. Women grow up crying in front of one another. Boys do not. It is genetic. Men who had little sisters understand this better than most. Little sisters sometimes tried not to cry, in order to be more like their brothers. Skinned knees or pinched fingers that happened in front of the brother and his friends had to be endured. If she did not, she would elicit looks of disapproval from all the boys around her. Why? Because 10 year old boys are already masters of hiding their pain? Bullshit. Ten year old boys are masters of nothing, especially their own feelings. They are just born to be prideful, to avoid showing weakness. They learn at a very early age that showing weakness is a sure-fire way to get even more hurt. It’s not evil, it’s nature. The wounded gazelle is the lion’s first target. That little girl with the skinned knee, choking back the tears, learns that same lesson and, rather than sobbing away the pain and enduring additional hurt feelings from the boys, she bravely endures. She gets up and resumes play. 

Some boys and many girls never get to learn that lesson. Girls don’t naturally teach boys not to cry so, if other men don’t encourage the boy to toughen up, there is no one to teach the girls the same lesson. Such a great symbiotic moment in gender development is missed. The children don’t get to learn the universal truth that the weak are more often than not, made weaker and crushed. Don’t be weak, don’t let everyone else know when you are weak lest you become someone else’s dinner. That is reserved for when you are alone with the other gazelles, or the one special gazelle. Again, it is not good or evil, it just is the way it is. Deny it, fight it, and you or someone you love will end up on someone else’s plate. If you play the victim, you are a victim. If you show the predators in the world that you can be made a victim, they will victimize you. It is critical to learn to hide your emotions, a trait men must develop in order maintain a balanced society.

History is replete with examples of the calm and steady, measured person besting the emotionally charged, passionate person. During the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy used “measured responses” to “incremental escalations” to “calmly guide” the nation through an existential struggle. Kruschev, on the other hand, an emotional, passionate man, couldn’t make up his own mind on what he would take as a prize to resolve the crisis. He sent conflicting communications to Kennedy, insisting in one that the USSR was steady and resolved to wage war. In the other he emotionally recited philosophy with typical communist zeal. The result was a near total loss for him and a massive blow to his nation’s prestige. This scenario played out again with the fall of the Berlin wall, the Iraq war, and the war against terrorism.

In World War II, it was the steely resolve and  speech, measured in both tone and content, of Winston Churchill that shepherded his nation through the Blitz. His opponent? - The emotional, whimsical, nationalistic Adolf Hitler, known mostly to his people for his hot rhetoric and screaming speeches. I watch clips of Hitler speaking, screaming at the top of his lungs, waving his hands like a madman, engaging in the shameless use of hyperbole to make every point, and I cannot believe anyone took him seriously. Nevertheless, they did, the followed him on his emotional path of destruction, and they were destroyed in the process.

The unchecked, unfettered reliance on emotion is dangerous. To passionately race towards one’s goal, with one's heart on his sleeve, conveying every feeling in an effervescent geyser of emotion, is to invite death. To require an entire nation of boys to do it is insanity.   

The feminization of America is undeniable. Many men and women consider it progress, but I ask you, are we really better off? Are we really happier? Are our marriages and families healthier? Do we even “hurt” less? I think the answers to these questions is a resounding “no.” Until we accept, once and for all, that boys and girls are different, and, most importantly, that boys and girls must be allowed to learn from each other, we are doomed. I cannot emphasize that last point enough. In an unstructured “Blue Lagoon” “Garden of Eden” natural environment, where boys and girls are forced to mature together without “adult” intervention, neither person concerns his or herself with gender roles. Boys do what boys do best and are most interested in doing. Girls do what girls do best and what they are most interested in doing. It is a symbiotic relationship as it was intended to be.

What about the mother? In a natural state, do women really encourage their sons to sew instead of learn how to defend themselves? Do they encourage their sons to “sit out” when the other boys want to play “kill the man with the medicine ball,” or chase each other with sticks? Does she encourage him to cry in front of the other boys? Does she want him to be effete? Does she punish him for punching the bully in the mouth?

When viewed in a naturalist light, the silliness of these modern trends is astonishingly clear. One need not argue the point too forcefully. In nature, there are few wives or mothers who would want their sons or husbands to be like the men we are now insisting as a society they become. Only in this post-modern, God is dead, moral relativist world could it ever make sense to turn a boy into a little girl. Only in this surreal world would it make sense to train the gazelle to attack the lion, the unintended consequence of which is, of course, a gazelle holocaust.

So what bizarre set of circumstances must converge to create a woman who delights in seeing her baby boy grow into a beaten down, put-on, spineless, mute man? Wouldn’t she rather tolerate a few expressions of raw maleness, some fighting, some “throwing his weight around,” some sexually potent women in the house? No. As a society, women have decided that “it is better this way.” It is, to use the most motherly of phrases “for his own good.” After all, what good is it to be a man if you have to be in fights right? I mean, if being “a real man” means you have to break your arm or get a potentially  life long head injury, why do it? If “real men” have to go off to Iraq or Vietnam and get their legs blown off, or die, or kill another person, what good is it? Why live that way, especially since there is a choice?Just submit to the world of women and you will be taken care of. Make love and not war.

So, there are consequences to all of this. Rather than teaching our 6' 4" 250 pound boys to physically intervene when they see a pedophile raping a young child, we tell them that they might be punished for that, and that the proper response is to "report it to the proper authorities." It is the death of manliness, and it was done by design. These emotional and psychological eunuchs are now the foundation of our society - generations of them, and we are doomed. 

Tomorrow - The Death of Femininity and Marriage…..

[qupritsuvwix]

Good luck. You’re missing a very important fact. Even if you ban the sale and manufacture of certain types and brands of rifles, a la the “laundry list” laws of the eighties, it won’t make a difference. You can’t confiscate enough to make America “safe” or “gun-free”. There are enough semi-automatic rifles out there to arm several million people if they each have only one. And many gun fuckers have multiple examples, with plenty of ammunition. The only hope we have is the more intelligent firearms owners getting tired of idiots making them look bad and deciding to clean up their act. Because most firearms owners are not violent and intent on murder. They are not heartless. They have just been given very few options. Some of them believe that the time is coming when the Shit Hits the Fan. There is no such thing as “civilian society” when cops murder with impunity and stand by while active shooters rage. There is no “civilian society” when a deposed president inspires insurrection and suggests that the next civil war might occur real soon. Unarmed citizens are not civilians just because you think firearms are “weapons of war”. When the next insurrection occurs you might be happy that some liberals own rifles. Because your “thoughts and prayers” that “assault weapons” will stop making your life difficult if enough people clap their hands is a fantasy. And stop babbling about “common sense gun laws”. If common sense actually existed, then nobody would be allowed to purchase a firearm without undergoing at least a basic firearm safety course. But it doesn’t.

[beardedmrbean]

A federal appeals court ruled Tuesday that a state law requiring Marylanders to obtain a handgun qualification license before purchasing or receiving a firearm is unconstitutional.

“This is a significant ruling for the Second Amendment and every American who cherishes our constitutional freedoms,” said Randy Kozuch, the executive director of the National Rifle Association Institute for Legislative Action, in a statement.

In a split 2-1 decision, a three-judge panel of the U.S. 4th Circuit Court of Appeals found a portion of the state’s Firearm Safety Act of 2013 to be unconstitutional. That part of the law prohibits Marylanders from purchasing, renting or receiving a handgun unless they have received a valid handgun qualification license.

It is also illegal to sell, rent, gift or transfer a firearm to a person without a license under that law.

To receive a handgun qualification license, applicants must be Maryland residents aged 21 or older. They are required to pass a firearm safety course and undergo a background check to ensure they aren’t prohibited from owning a gun under state or federal law. The licenses are issued by the Maryland State Police. The application review process can take up to 30 days.

The case, brought on behalf of the firearms rights organization Maryland Shall Issue, two individual plaintiffs and a gun store, was filed initially against former Gov. Larry Hogan, a Republican. Hogan met his term limit earlier this year and was replaced by Democratic Gov. Wes Moore, who is now considered the defendant in the case.

Moore said he is “disappointed” by Tuesday’s decision.

“This law is not about stripping away rights from responsible gun owners — it’s about every Marylander having the right to live free from fear,” the governor said. “I am determined to do more than just give thoughts and prayers and attend funerals — and that’s why this law is vital to our administration’s commitment to keeping guns out of the wrong hands and saving lives.”

Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott, a Democrat, said he is “incredibly frustrated,” and that Tuesday’s ruling “threatens the safety of our communities.”

State Senate President Bill Ferguson, a Baltimore Democrat, called the ruling “crazy.”

“Every responsible gun owner supports basic firearm training and keeping guns out of criminals’ hands,” Ferguson said. “This decision will unequivocally lead to more gun violence and firearm-related deaths.”

The law was upheld when it was initially challenged in 2016.

Tuesday’s opinion, written by U.S. Circuit Judge Julius Richardson, reversed that ruling. Richardson, an appointee of former President Donald Trump who clerked for former Supreme Court Chief Justice William Rehnquist, cited the U.S. Supreme Court decision in the New York State Rifle and Pistol Association v. Bruen, which overturned New York state’s gun licensing policy and disrupted the licensing process in Maryland, California, Hawaii, Massachusetts, New Jersey and Rhode Island.

The state has two weeks to ask for a review of the decision by the entire 14-judge 4th Circuit. It also may ask the Supreme Court to review the decision.

The New York law that the Supreme Court deemed unconstitutional in 2022 required people applying for permits to carry guns in public to demonstrate “proper cause” to successfully receive a concealed carry permit.

In his opinion, Richardson wrote that the Bruen decision “effected a sea change in Second Amendment law” and that, in order for the law to be constitutional, the state must demonstrate that the challenged law is similar enough to “a historically recognized exception to the right to keep and bear arms.”

U.S. Sen. Chris Van Hollen, a Maryland Democrat, said that the ruling is “yet another disastrous consequence of the absurd new Supreme Court standard that today’s gun laws need to match those from centuries ago.”

In a statement issued after the release of the opinion, William Taylor, the deputy director of Second Amendment litigation at Everytown Law, a group that advocates for gun safety, said that the now-stricken licensing process is “not only common sense, it is entirely consistent with the Second Amendment and the new test established by the Bruen decision.”

“While today’s decision is a setback to public safety, we fully expect that the full 4th Circuit, or if necessary, the Supreme Court, will reverse this dangerous decision and uphold Maryland’s critical gun safety law,” he said.

The three-judge panel ruled Tuesday that the state’s argument for upholding the law did not meet the Bruen case’s historical standard.

“The 4th Circuit Court’s decision to overturn Maryland’s restrictive gun license law sends a clear message: Law-abiding Marylanders’ fundamental right to self-defense must not be infringed,” Kozuch said.

[jackawful]

Anyway if you're trans you should take a stop the bleed course, get a bleeding control kit, and either get a gun OR if there's reasons you can't, get friends and supportive community who have guns. You don't even have to already know gun people (tho it helps). I have heard of parents of trans kids starting training groups in deep red rural texas together. Reach out to the physically closest SRA or JBGC and I suspect there's probably someone who would be willing to drive a long way to teach you & especially a group of your friends basic firearms safety & use. There's people out there that can give advice for handling the legal, financial, social, and mental health hurdles to armed self-defense. Shit's scary right now but having a community capable of handling some of the worst-case scenarios has really helped me feel like it's something we can face.

Also trans gun girls have their own wholeass subculture and they're all really hot.

[weditchthemap]

6 Important Safety Tips for Camping in Wilderness

Camping in the wilderness is a popular hobby for a reason. It brings people closer to nature, provides endless relaxation, and is a way to connect with the great outdoors. For those who love to tent up and explore, there is no harm in getting to know some important safety tips to make the excursion as safe and enjoyable as possible. This guide has six bits of advice any camper can take on board, so keep reading to find out more.

Let People Know the Trip Agenda

The number one rule of going off for a wilderness trip is that you have to let someone else know where you’re going, how long you’ll be there, and when you’re supposed to be back home. By doing this, you ensure that somebody else is waiting to verify that you have returned safely. If something happens, there will be a person on the outside raising the alarm and it will be the difference between people looking for you if you run into trouble, or staying lost until it’s too late.

Learn the Risks of the Area

The second rule that can’t be ignored is to understand the risks of the camping area. The wilderness is beautiful, but there are natural predators out there too. Through actively learning the risks that surround you, it increases the likelihood of surviving them. You can learn, for instance, what the best way to deal with a bear confrontation is. Or, whether poisonous snakes are lurking about and all of the other animals or plants that will pose a threat to your safety. Having strategies for combatting these risks is essential, and you can only do this if you know what you might be facing.

Take Suitable Protection

For areas where there are going to be substantial threats, like mountain lions, for instance, it is advisable to take some form of protection. If you are taking a firearm, don’t forget to source enough ammunition from somewhere where it is available in bulk so there is no risk of running out. It is worth having this in a safe compartment of your hiking gear just in case the time comes when you have to use it.

Know What’s Safe to Forage

If you plan on foraging your food like a true hunter in the wild, ensure that you have a reliable list of what’s safe to consume and what isn’t. A camping trip that is cut short by an unexpected illness is definitely not something you want on the agenda, so don’t make this easy to avoid mistakes. There are so many books and online information that you can research everything easily before you head out there.

Be Fire Aware

Of course, if you do take food with you to cook it is also important to be safety aware with the campfire. Follow the advice and regulations, and ensure you have everything ticked off legally such as permits and the correct type of fuel too. Campers cooking causes so many wildfires, so don’t add to that statistic.

Take a First Aid Kit

Every camper needs a top quality first aid kit. Take all the medical basic essentials in an easy to access bag just in case you fall or become injured along the way. It’s also a good idea to get to know the basics of administering first aid as well so you can help yourself and anyone else that might need it.

Camping in the wilderness is a lot of fun, but every adventure has space for safety and awareness. Take all the essential items along with you every time you’re away from civilization, and ensure that at least one other person knows exactly where you’re going to be just in case.

[weaselle]

i'm a left/liberal person in California with left/liberal/dem family in a left/liberal/dem city and a bunch of my family and most of my neighbors have guns. Including my grandmother, who actually had a couple of "ghost guns" (which are illegal guns without identifying attributes like serial numbers, and are therefor worth a LOT of money on the black market).

This is the thing that even other U.S. Americans, but who are right wing and gun-happy, don't seem to realize. Like, several of my close friends, my sister, my brother, my grandmother, a bunch of my cousins, a bunch of my neighbors... are all democrats who will vote in favor of gun control, and also every one of them is in possession of firearms. They aren't anti-gun so much as pro-regulation. I hear this weird rhetoric from the right that includes things like "you shouldn't advocate for laws about things you don't have any experience with" or "how are you going to protect your family" or even extreme and concerning stuff like "that's fine, when the (next civil) war starts the side with the guns is going to win" but like... we also have guns, dude. Just what country do you think this is?

Anyway i don't personally have a gun because i constantly lose everything and can't keep track of anything in my life and the way i see it misplacing a gun is basically the same as putting a child's life at risk, so i just don't own one. But every now and then i go to a shooting range. Mostly to brush up on my gun safety so i can confidently handle one in a safe manner if i should so happen to find one laying around or something- i want to be able to unload it completely etc etc. And of course i do a little target practice while i'm there. As it turns out, I am, in a controlled environment facing a stationary target, a very good shot, actually. Probably has something to do with all my archery experience.

purpose of this poll: basically im wondering if my gran having a pistol was a typical american experience

[marksmanrange]

Indoor Gun Range : Key Features of Indoor Gun Ranges in Houston

Indoor gun ranges in Houston are popular destinations for firearm enthusiasts, offering a safe, climate-controlled environment for both beginners and seasoned shooters. Here’s a bit of what you can expect from these facilities and what makes them stand out:

Key Features of Indoor Gun Ranges in Houston

Controlled EnvironmentHouston’s weather can be unpredictable, so Best indoor ranges provide a consistent, comfortable setting year-round. Climate control ensures that shooters can enjoy a session without the heat, humidity, or rain affecting experience.

SafetyIndoor ranges are designed with stringent safety protocols, including bulletproof barriers, air filtration systems, and trained staff to maintain a secure environment. Most ranges have experienced range officers available to assist and educate visitors on proper firearm training in Houston handling and safety rules.

Modern AmenitiesMany Indoor ranges in Houston feature modern amenities like computerized target systems, rentable firearms, ammunition, and safety equipment, so visitors don’t need to bring our own. Some high-end ranges even have lounges, pro shops, and classrooms for additional training and events.

Training ProgramsHouston’s indoor ranges offer a variety of classes, from basic firearm safety to advanced tactical shooting and self-defense courses. Whether you're a beginner or an advanced shooter, there are often tailored training programs taught by certified instructors.

Community and EventsRanges often hold events, competitions, and group gatherings, creating a community for enthusiasts. Some facilities may offer membership plans that include perks like discounts, exclusive range time, and access to member-only events.

Firearm Rentals and SalesMany ranges have an extensive selection of firearms available for rent, allowing customers to try different models and calibers. Some also have on-site sales and gunsmithing services, making it convenient for enthusiasts looking to purchase or maintain firearms.