24 April 2006

OK we're done posting about Donald Fagen for now, I promise.

Anyway...long-time readers (depressingly hilarious, innit?) will recall my quest for firepower and selecting the perfect "next gun". I've been back and forth on this quite a bit, eventually settling on a FAL, but I found something else in the meantime. The Kel-Tec PLR-16. Essentially take the AR-15 design, use a different gas piston system, shorten the barrel substantially and remove the stock. What remains is a 5.56mm pistol with a 30 round capacity, tons of power, capable of being outfitted with red dot sights, laser sights, you name it. I'll be getting mine next week. I know a lot of you may think to yourselves..."5.56mm vs. 9mm? That's a smaller and assumedly less powerful caliber!" Au contraire my friends. That's why the US military has been using 5.56 ammunition in all of its rifles and infantry-carried machine guns since the 70s. The bullet may be smaller but the power behind it is much greater, being a rifle round. Think of a 9mm round as a large rock fired from a sling shot, and 5.56mm as a small bolt fired from a powerful crossbow. The gun doesn't quite hit full AR-15 muzzle velocities due to the shorter barrel but if I recall correctly it does hit around 2600 fps. Anyway, here it is:

So but anyway....yeah. I'm looking forward to taking this baby to the range. It's a noisy sucker. I just have to wait until next Monday to get my handgun purchase permit from the Jackson County sheriff.

04 April 2006

I'm still in a bit of a trance from Donald Fagen's latest album; it's a bit unfair to compare it to a classic like The Nightfly, but the astonishing clarity of Fagen's lyrics has a bit of a hold on me. It's almost as if he grew tired of the ruse, and stopped trying to camoflauge the meaning behind the songs. One particular song was rather disquieting..."Brite Nitegown", a tight, creepy funk number. Fagen's explanation of the song in the liner notes made it quite disturbing:

"I read in a biography of W.C Fields that the great comedian liked to refer to
Death as "the fellow in the bright nightgown". Each verse is a different
encounter with the Fellow."

I've always been quite fond of W.C. Fields and his movies, and his imagination of a man in a bright nightgown is...well, disturbing but yet difficult to envision. You can't quite picture what he imagines, but it holds a kind of grotesque normalcy. Nothing exotic like a demon or a fearsome reaper, just a fellow in a (perhaps glowing?) nightgown. I suppose the most horrible thought along those lines is that none of us would really know what the Fellow would look like, and the moment we do...he's here and our time is up. So with that quasi-ghoulish premise, here are the lyrics:
I dreamed I had a fever
I was pushin one-oh-three
My mom’s all upset - cryin’ by my bedside
Everybody’s prayin’ for me
I hear a scratchin at the window
I somehow twist myself around
I realize
I’m eyes to eyes
With the fella in the Brite Nitegown

Brite Nitegown
Brite Nitegown
You can’t fight with the fella
In the Brite Nitegown

The eagle flys on Friday
My baby wants to bash
I hit the ATM - and march down the street
With a roll of party cash
Right then a couple lit-up brothers
They gently put me on the ground
They do the steal
Leave me to deal
With the fella in the Brite Nitegown

Brite Nitegown
Brite Nitegown
You can’t fight with the fella
In the Brite Nitegown

Ten milligrams of Chronax
Will whip you back through time
Past Hebrew kings - and furry things
To the birth of humankind
I shared in all of nature’s secrets
But when I finally came around
I’m sittin’ on the rug
Gettin’ a victory hug
From the fella in the Brite Nitegown

Brite Nitegown
Brite Nitegown
You can’t fight with the fella
In the Brite Nitegown