WARNING! If profanity offends you you’d best skip this one.

Last week was the forty-first anniversary of my departure for Basic Training in the United States Army. I’m pushing sixty, and I figured it was time to adopt age-appropriate ways of thinking. To be in solidarity with others of my ilk; an advocate of time-honored things and traditions. Yes, I’m talking about Fudds.

You know what I mean; those older folks that really have the good grip-handles on reality. Men that know what’s what. Real men. Manly men that get it. So buckle up buttercup, ’cause here we go!

What? Yeah, that’s my EDC. It’s a man’s gun in God’s Own Caliber. What’s that? Are you kidding? It begins with a four like any real caliber and ends with a five. That’s right, son, .45 ACP, straight from the mind of God’s true prophet, John Moses Browning!

What is it? It’s a Detonics Combat Master, a cut-down version of JMB’s greatest creation, the gun that fought two world wars. What? It’s heavy? Goddamn right it is! 36 ounces loaded with seven bullets in it. That’s a man’s gun, son! Heavy! (snort) A man don’t mind the lower back pain; cost of doing business, princess. But you young folks with your plastic wonder-guns wouldn’t understand that.

Yeah, seven rounds, I said. Six in the mag, one in the chamber. What? Your plastic POS carries as many rounds as all three of my magazines? Good thing, because your gonna’ need ’em with that peashooter. 9mm! Hah! Hell son, you ever shoot me with that and I notice I might be pretty cross about it. If God meant us to carry double-stack girly guns in 9mm he’d of had John Moses design one! What? He did? You just shut up, I ain’t finished!

Yeah, that’s a leather holster. Not like this ki-decks crap all you young-uns always go on about. Yeah, it probably weighs more than your whole gun, but it’s worth it. A real man wears a dead cow on his hip. A fella can trust a cow. Who trusts a piece of plastic?

Hell, son, you still rattlin’ on about capacity? A man don’t need a lot of shots! Sheeeit, one of those there flying ashtrays hits a fella anywhere and he’d best make his peace with his dear and fluffy Lord! That there bullet will drop a bull moose in his tracks. Tear you damn arm clean off, it will.

The handle? That’s antler, son. Comes off a deer, like the one I shot with my .30-06 last fall. That’s an honest caliber! Proper rifle, too. Hold five shots. Five, son, not twenty or thirty. Sheeeit, a man needs more than one shot for a deer he needs a new hobby! But you cupcakes with your A-Rs wouldn’t know about…

ENOUGH ALREADY! Muhgawd, I can’t even pretend to be That Guy without being in real danger of parting ways with my latest meal!

Yeah, I like old guns. Carry ’em too. I like .45 ACP, but it’s because I like the feel of it when fired from a 1911, not because of any delusion that it’s better. Yeah, a lot of the old guns are damn heavy, but I’m a big guy and it’s what I’m used to. I like to shoot those old guns, and a gun you like to shoot is a gun you’ll practice with.

But make no mistake, I get the attraction of modern guns and recognize their utility. If I had to go back on duty I’d say, ‘hand me one of those Glock 17s, please, and put a red dot on it if you don’t mind!’ Technology has moved on, and it’s done so for a reason. Modern guns are lighter, hold more rounds and are mostly more reliable. Qualities that I would appreciate if I were called upon to carry the thing 8-16 hours a day.

Back in the way-backs I worked in a small town in the foothills, and most people carried revolvers on duty back then. Me? I had a double-stack sixteen-shot 9mm with two spare mags. When your back-up might be twenty minutes away I figured it was prudent to do whatever I could to stack the odds in my favor.

So yeah, I’m getting on in years, but my brain is still chugging along just fine. I might carry old, but that doesn’t mean I have to think old.

This was all meant in good fun, so I hope I didn’t offend any of you. Not because I’m so much worried about your feelings, but because if it offended you you’re probably a Fudd yourself, and I like to think better of my readers than that.

Stay safe and take care… and don’t take yourself so seriously.

Michael Tinker Pearce, 30 August, 2021