Nearly a decade has come and gone since the last post by Pecos Bill. One year ago, I retired from work and am still attempting to collect monies owed me by a giant corporation. This story, the gun control crowd attempting to eliminate the second amendment, Diane Feinstein, Nancy Pelosi, the despicable Democrats attack on Brett Kavanaugh, and numerous "me too" claims of unfounded sexual abuses, and the change to "all persons are considered guilty until proven innocent." What a mess the Democrats have made. A day of reckoning is in their future.
'
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Saturday, September 25, 2010
The Travelin' Salesman
NOTE: I have read many wonderful books and stories written by Lewis Grizzard. Who can ever forget his books with titles like "Shoot Low, Boys; They're Ridin' Shetland Ponies" and "I Love You, Kathy Sue Loudermilk!"?
His quotations and comments are equally entertaining and clever. Can you recall his comments after one of his divorces? He said "I ain't never gettin' married again. I'll just find a woman I don't like and give her a house!"
Another jewel was this morsel about sled dogs. He wrote, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!"
This column about the traveling salesman is indicative of his story telling genius and his incredibly sharp wit. I present it here giving 99.9% of the credit to him; with my sole contribution being the usual jab at Topeka. I have been unable to find the exact book that his story was in so I am re-telling it here from my poor memory. His original story is more than adequate to shine through brilliantly in spite of my paraphrasing.
This is Lewis's story...
Back in the early 50's, a pharmaceutical salesman had a territory that encompassed several southern states, including Georgia. He had one more call to a make on this late summer day and as he was still some distance from Valdosta, he ate his dinner on the road as he was driving along. (in the south, the three meals are called breakfast, dinner, and supper)
By and by, the gallon of sun tea he had consumed during the trip began bangin' on his kidneys and he knew that soon he must stop for a potty break. Since this was in the early 50's, there were no rest areas as we know them today. A large tree was frequently used by purveyors of patent nostrums and salesmen of various and sundry items.
Soon enough he approached a clearing that had a large oak tree that would be just perfect for his needs. He stopped the car and ambled over to the tree, out of sight from the road, and began sprinkling the base of the tree.
Relief began right away and with half closed eyes and a gentle smile on his face, he sprinkled the base of this conveniently located tree, thinking what a beautiful day it really was. Soon he would be in Valdosta for the last call of the day and in his small mind, he was already enjoying the fine Bar B Que with a big red soda water he would have for supper that evening.
All this good feeling ended abruptly when an angry swarm of ground wasps boiled up out of the site of his sprinkling and one of them actually stung him right on the tip of his business! (for those in Topeka, this means he was stung right on the end of his...sprinkler)
The pain was incredible, like unto a red hot needle! Immense swelling was instantaneous and most severe! In point of fact, he could not put the sprinkler away and quickly wrapped his sport coat around his waist. With great alacrity he ran to his car and starting it up, he drove off in great haste, headed directly for the Valdosta Pharmaceutical Emporium and Mercantile.
Arriving there, he flung open the car door and raced inside the drug store. Seeing the spinster lady filling prescriptions, he ran behind the counter and whipped off his sport coat from around his waist, thereby exposing his painfully swollen member.
"Ma'am, what can you give me for this?" he cried.
The little spinster eyed this phenomenon for a moment and replied, "Hmm. How about half interest in this store, 80 acres of good bottom land, and a '49 Packard?"
Great stuff, Lewis. I would have enjoyed knowing you.
PB
His quotations and comments are equally entertaining and clever. Can you recall his comments after one of his divorces? He said "I ain't never gettin' married again. I'll just find a woman I don't like and give her a house!"
Another jewel was this morsel about sled dogs. He wrote, "If you ain't the lead dog, the scenery never changes!"
This column about the traveling salesman is indicative of his story telling genius and his incredibly sharp wit. I present it here giving 99.9% of the credit to him; with my sole contribution being the usual jab at Topeka. I have been unable to find the exact book that his story was in so I am re-telling it here from my poor memory. His original story is more than adequate to shine through brilliantly in spite of my paraphrasing.
This is Lewis's story...
Back in the early 50's, a pharmaceutical salesman had a territory that encompassed several southern states, including Georgia. He had one more call to a make on this late summer day and as he was still some distance from Valdosta, he ate his dinner on the road as he was driving along. (in the south, the three meals are called breakfast, dinner, and supper)
By and by, the gallon of sun tea he had consumed during the trip began bangin' on his kidneys and he knew that soon he must stop for a potty break. Since this was in the early 50's, there were no rest areas as we know them today. A large tree was frequently used by purveyors of patent nostrums and salesmen of various and sundry items.
Soon enough he approached a clearing that had a large oak tree that would be just perfect for his needs. He stopped the car and ambled over to the tree, out of sight from the road, and began sprinkling the base of the tree.
Relief began right away and with half closed eyes and a gentle smile on his face, he sprinkled the base of this conveniently located tree, thinking what a beautiful day it really was. Soon he would be in Valdosta for the last call of the day and in his small mind, he was already enjoying the fine Bar B Que with a big red soda water he would have for supper that evening.
All this good feeling ended abruptly when an angry swarm of ground wasps boiled up out of the site of his sprinkling and one of them actually stung him right on the tip of his business! (for those in Topeka, this means he was stung right on the end of his...sprinkler)
The pain was incredible, like unto a red hot needle! Immense swelling was instantaneous and most severe! In point of fact, he could not put the sprinkler away and quickly wrapped his sport coat around his waist. With great alacrity he ran to his car and starting it up, he drove off in great haste, headed directly for the Valdosta Pharmaceutical Emporium and Mercantile.
Arriving there, he flung open the car door and raced inside the drug store. Seeing the spinster lady filling prescriptions, he ran behind the counter and whipped off his sport coat from around his waist, thereby exposing his painfully swollen member.
"Ma'am, what can you give me for this?" he cried.
The little spinster eyed this phenomenon for a moment and replied, "Hmm. How about half interest in this store, 80 acres of good bottom land, and a '49 Packard?"
Great stuff, Lewis. I would have enjoyed knowing you.
PB
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Guardian
He protects his home with great diligence, prepared to repel any invaders bent on attacking his security. He is armed because his size alone is not adequate to defend what is important to him. His weapons will serve him well as he goes forth to protect his loved ones from those who are larger and will come in greater numbers than he.
He knows there will be no help from others of his kind, who, like him, have learned that it is only his determination and defensive skill sets that will ensure his ultimate survival. He does not care if his actions will be viewed as politically correct or even legal; he will be ready for battle at any time.
His aggressiveness is shown by his manner of dress. He is boldly attired in a neat, form fitting black suit, with a splash of crimson at his throat. He relies heavily on situational awareness and constant vigilance, but never wears headgear. He’s ready to spring into action quickly, efficiently, and without mercy. Speed and agility are his ”go-to” weapons and they are supported by an aggressive attitude that all intruders will be forced to deal with; mostly to their regret and dismay.
There is nothing in their world that could have prepared them to deal with this bold warrior. Who is he?
He…is the young male Hummingbird that patrols and defends the back yard near the feeder on our deck! He protects the rich red nectar that is placed in the feeder and he has more than repaid us for our expense in the form of high entertainment, aerial combat, and great courage.
In one set of battles, we observed him dispatch several of his brothers, a couple of wasps that came to poach, and the State bird of Missouri…the loathsome bluebird. (in my opinion) He is aggressive enough to dive bomb intruders and will actually strike them in mid air with enough force that we can hear the little bodies collide!
The only individual allowed to partake of his food source is a drab and fat chick that he apparently likes a lot. She is dull brown, a little bigger than he is and must be a real Hummingbird centerfold model as she is the only one he allows to use "his" feeder. I’m guessing she is bigger because while he spends most of his time defending the territory, she spends most of her time eating!
In about three weeks, they will all be gone; south bound for the winter. Some will migrate as far as South America. They will stop along the way and take on extra protein in the form of a dwindling supply of insects.
Our little guy may even cross the Gulf of Mexico in a non stop flight of 20 hours and covering over 500 miles; losing more than half of his weight! Considering he weighs around 1/8th of an ounce now, this is significant.
He will fly alone at about tree top level, singly, as a flock of Hummingbirds may attract the unwanted attention of large winged predators. What will he eat or drink during this flight? How will he rest? What is his average air speed? I don’t know.
I just hope he has a safe journey and comes back next year.
PB
He knows there will be no help from others of his kind, who, like him, have learned that it is only his determination and defensive skill sets that will ensure his ultimate survival. He does not care if his actions will be viewed as politically correct or even legal; he will be ready for battle at any time.
His aggressiveness is shown by his manner of dress. He is boldly attired in a neat, form fitting black suit, with a splash of crimson at his throat. He relies heavily on situational awareness and constant vigilance, but never wears headgear. He’s ready to spring into action quickly, efficiently, and without mercy. Speed and agility are his ”go-to” weapons and they are supported by an aggressive attitude that all intruders will be forced to deal with; mostly to their regret and dismay.
There is nothing in their world that could have prepared them to deal with this bold warrior. Who is he?
He…is the young male Hummingbird that patrols and defends the back yard near the feeder on our deck! He protects the rich red nectar that is placed in the feeder and he has more than repaid us for our expense in the form of high entertainment, aerial combat, and great courage.
In one set of battles, we observed him dispatch several of his brothers, a couple of wasps that came to poach, and the State bird of Missouri…the loathsome bluebird. (in my opinion) He is aggressive enough to dive bomb intruders and will actually strike them in mid air with enough force that we can hear the little bodies collide!
The only individual allowed to partake of his food source is a drab and fat chick that he apparently likes a lot. She is dull brown, a little bigger than he is and must be a real Hummingbird centerfold model as she is the only one he allows to use "his" feeder. I’m guessing she is bigger because while he spends most of his time defending the territory, she spends most of her time eating!
In about three weeks, they will all be gone; south bound for the winter. Some will migrate as far as South America. They will stop along the way and take on extra protein in the form of a dwindling supply of insects.
Our little guy may even cross the Gulf of Mexico in a non stop flight of 20 hours and covering over 500 miles; losing more than half of his weight! Considering he weighs around 1/8th of an ounce now, this is significant.
He will fly alone at about tree top level, singly, as a flock of Hummingbirds may attract the unwanted attention of large winged predators. What will he eat or drink during this flight? How will he rest? What is his average air speed? I don’t know.
I just hope he has a safe journey and comes back next year.
PB
More Gun Control?
Read any newspaper (even the yellow rags) about the criminal use of firearms and you will quickly grasp one glaring fact; namely that the perpetrators of this activity are all known police characters that have multiple felonies on their rap sheets.
This tidbit of information is usually hidden in the body of the report or slipped in at the end when the great unwashed reader’s attention has waned. In the most recent case I read, the accused had just been sentenced to 10 years in a Federal prison for illegal possession of a firearm. (for those cretins that live in Topeka, this means no parole) At the end of the story was the small fact that he had eight prior felonies!
What the hell are these criminals doing out on the street?
This dramatic style of reporting is presented like a superb dessert at the beginning of a long dull meal. After dessert, few would want to have a salad or a plate of beans. Hence…the reader’s attention is riveted only to the juicy parts. Some may even re-read the grisly details and miss entirely the real issue.
With this documentation of previous criminal activity, they could have been, should have been locked away for a long, long time. Yet here they are, appearing frequently in the news while the honest law abiding citizen lives with the daily harassment of background checks, training and licensing requirements, along with other needless restrictions foisted upon us by the witless Neanderthals that we have elected.
Go back to the Klinton years during which the Monica pervert went down as the most anti gun President in history. A shady, back room, midnight deal ushered in the assault weapons ban. By itself it was virtually worthless as criminals opt for small easily hidden handguns, rather than large, conspicuous weapons. Klinton paid the ultimate price two years later when he lost both the Senate and the House to NRA backed voters who put in second amendment candidates.
Later Klinton bragged about keeping guns out of the hands of more than 600,000 felons through the instant background check. (BTW, the NRA was responsible for pushing the instant background check through).
Now let us pause here and review the law on felons and guns. It is a criminal Federal offense for a felon to attempt to purchase a rifle, pistol, or shotgun. It is a further criminal Federal offense to attempt to purchase ammunition for said firearms.
So…even those residents of Topeka, Kansas would (should, may, well...maybe not) logically conclude that these laws were violated by felons attempting to purchase firearms and/or ammunition. (Just a brief note here about why, in my writings, I am so critical of Topeka...it's because the politicians in this Capital city and the Menniger outpatients have inbred over the years and produced a majority of seriously deranged and deeply disturbed individuals concentrated in just this one little nest who somehow rise to positions of influence.)
Hence…there should have been over 600,000 arrests, prosecutions, and convictions of these felons attempting to buy firearms and/or ammunition illegally and therefore committing yet another felony…or two. But how many convictions were there? Eleven. Why so few? Klinton couldn’t say.
The most spectacular of these was one Benjamin Smith who was not allowed to purchase a firearm because of a domestic assault charge and a restraining order. Rather than arrest and charge him for this felonious attempt to purchase a firearm and ammunition, the Feds simply allowed him to walk out of the store! Later, he obtained weapons and over the July 4th weekend, shot 11 people, killing 2 of them before killing himself. Google up "Benjamin Smith Shooting" for all the details.
This is the case that caused Wayne LaPierre of the NRA to accuse Klinton of being willing to allow a certain amount of pain, suffering, and death of innocent people in order to further his anti gun agenda. Stung and embarrassed by this factual charge, Klinton's reponse was lash out with the insipd claim that 600,000 felons had been denied access to firearms.
Note: If you are going to tangle with LaPierre, start early. And you better have your facts straight or else you will play Wayne's game of "Today's hasty, ill chosen words; eaten tomorrow; taste like turds!"
It seems to me that it would be more effective to pass new laws that required those judges who return career criminals (can you say repeat offenders?) to the streets to now accompany them as they return to prison and serve out the remainder of their sentences. Judge control; criminal control. I like that.
But it is always easier to attack honest citizens because in the end they will obey the additional laws no matter how inappropriate they are. And why is this? Because they are honest citizens!
Just like the anti second ammendent loons, PETA people protest the wearing of animal skins by throwing red paint on wealthy women who wear fur coats.
If PETA is really serious about this, why then do they not go to the Sturgis Motorcyle Rally and throw red paint on the boys and girls that attend this social event? Are not leather jackets and pants made of animal skins?
Ah yes, but PETA people know that if they do that, they will limp away with a sore hiney and other damaged body parts; much the worse for wear. Any one can see (yes, even Topekans) that an upset elderly society woman is much easier to deal with than a mean motorcycle rider that is highly pissed off.
And just like the anti gun folks, PETA knows who is safe to harass and who will break legs, arms, and heads.
Cowards, all.
I am...Pecos Bill and I wrote this column.
JB
This tidbit of information is usually hidden in the body of the report or slipped in at the end when the great unwashed reader’s attention has waned. In the most recent case I read, the accused had just been sentenced to 10 years in a Federal prison for illegal possession of a firearm. (for those cretins that live in Topeka, this means no parole) At the end of the story was the small fact that he had eight prior felonies!
What the hell are these criminals doing out on the street?
This dramatic style of reporting is presented like a superb dessert at the beginning of a long dull meal. After dessert, few would want to have a salad or a plate of beans. Hence…the reader’s attention is riveted only to the juicy parts. Some may even re-read the grisly details and miss entirely the real issue.
With this documentation of previous criminal activity, they could have been, should have been locked away for a long, long time. Yet here they are, appearing frequently in the news while the honest law abiding citizen lives with the daily harassment of background checks, training and licensing requirements, along with other needless restrictions foisted upon us by the witless Neanderthals that we have elected.
Go back to the Klinton years during which the Monica pervert went down as the most anti gun President in history. A shady, back room, midnight deal ushered in the assault weapons ban. By itself it was virtually worthless as criminals opt for small easily hidden handguns, rather than large, conspicuous weapons. Klinton paid the ultimate price two years later when he lost both the Senate and the House to NRA backed voters who put in second amendment candidates.
Later Klinton bragged about keeping guns out of the hands of more than 600,000 felons through the instant background check. (BTW, the NRA was responsible for pushing the instant background check through).
Now let us pause here and review the law on felons and guns. It is a criminal Federal offense for a felon to attempt to purchase a rifle, pistol, or shotgun. It is a further criminal Federal offense to attempt to purchase ammunition for said firearms.
So…even those residents of Topeka, Kansas would (should, may, well...maybe not) logically conclude that these laws were violated by felons attempting to purchase firearms and/or ammunition. (Just a brief note here about why, in my writings, I am so critical of Topeka...it's because the politicians in this Capital city and the Menniger outpatients have inbred over the years and produced a majority of seriously deranged and deeply disturbed individuals concentrated in just this one little nest who somehow rise to positions of influence.)
Hence…there should have been over 600,000 arrests, prosecutions, and convictions of these felons attempting to buy firearms and/or ammunition illegally and therefore committing yet another felony…or two. But how many convictions were there? Eleven. Why so few? Klinton couldn’t say.
The most spectacular of these was one Benjamin Smith who was not allowed to purchase a firearm because of a domestic assault charge and a restraining order. Rather than arrest and charge him for this felonious attempt to purchase a firearm and ammunition, the Feds simply allowed him to walk out of the store! Later, he obtained weapons and over the July 4th weekend, shot 11 people, killing 2 of them before killing himself. Google up "Benjamin Smith Shooting" for all the details.
This is the case that caused Wayne LaPierre of the NRA to accuse Klinton of being willing to allow a certain amount of pain, suffering, and death of innocent people in order to further his anti gun agenda. Stung and embarrassed by this factual charge, Klinton's reponse was lash out with the insipd claim that 600,000 felons had been denied access to firearms.
Note: If you are going to tangle with LaPierre, start early. And you better have your facts straight or else you will play Wayne's game of "Today's hasty, ill chosen words; eaten tomorrow; taste like turds!"
It seems to me that it would be more effective to pass new laws that required those judges who return career criminals (can you say repeat offenders?) to the streets to now accompany them as they return to prison and serve out the remainder of their sentences. Judge control; criminal control. I like that.
But it is always easier to attack honest citizens because in the end they will obey the additional laws no matter how inappropriate they are. And why is this? Because they are honest citizens!
Just like the anti second ammendent loons, PETA people protest the wearing of animal skins by throwing red paint on wealthy women who wear fur coats.
If PETA is really serious about this, why then do they not go to the Sturgis Motorcyle Rally and throw red paint on the boys and girls that attend this social event? Are not leather jackets and pants made of animal skins?
Ah yes, but PETA people know that if they do that, they will limp away with a sore hiney and other damaged body parts; much the worse for wear. Any one can see (yes, even Topekans) that an upset elderly society woman is much easier to deal with than a mean motorcycle rider that is highly pissed off.
And just like the anti gun folks, PETA knows who is safe to harass and who will break legs, arms, and heads.
Cowards, all.
I am...Pecos Bill and I wrote this column.
JB
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Unexpurgated Hospital Stories
After a long career working in hospital emergency rooms, ICU areas, home care, and private duty respiratory support, many warm and humorous stories have been accumulated. Here’s a few appetizers just to get you interested.
QUANG TI DUC
This was a practical joke that went badly awry. During the time when South Vietnamese refugees were being relocated to the redistribution center at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, a fellow department head thought it would be amusing to rattle the cage of the Director of Personnel.
He had been attempting to find three students for his small school of Nuclear Medicine and was having no takers. According to the Federal employment laws, the Personnel Director was required to post the position on the hospital bill board before seeking applicants from outside the organization. Who knows, maybe there is an individual presently employed in the Housekeeping Department with degrees in Radiology, Chemistry, Physics, and Biology. Not likely, but hey…it could happen.
After waiting a week to see if someone miraculously appeared from within, it became obvious to even the PD that more aggressive efforts would be required. Ads were then placed in several large Kansas newspapers and he settled back to wait.
My friend saw this as a golden opportunity for an extraordinary practical joke and proceeded to create a letterhead from Fort Chaffee and upon it he wrote a heartfelt letter of thanks to himself; he who had expressed such great concern for these unfortunate victims of circumstance. Yep, that oughta do it.
In the letter, he listed three fictitious Vietnamese applicants with medical backgrounds and wonderfully grand names; Hang Son Moon, Le Duc Tho, and the only one of the three who spoke the King’s English, the star of the show, one Quang Ti Duc!
The Fort Chaffee official advised my friend that based upon their conversations, he was thrilled to know that these three ‘students’ would be most welcome in our town and at our Hospital.
He also advised that they would be arriving on July 4th (how appropriate) to attend the school of Nuclear Medicine. Thoughtfully, a small stipend would be provided including lodging quarters, meals, and transportation. Green cards would be procured for the students by my friend, and just like that, three deserving refugees would gain legal entrance to America and her boundless opportunities.
The final sentence was the kicker saying that as soon as the ‘boys’ were settled, the wives and children would be arriving…along with many extended family members of which there was a veritable Greek Chorus including; fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, grandfathers, grandmothers, etc! All were so happy and immensely grateful to my friend; scarcely able to wait until they would meet this wonderful benefactor.
Zounds! This should cause the Personnel Director a modicum of panic.
So, when the time was right, my friend, in an agitated state, approached the Personnel Director and admitted he had inadvertently created an enormous problem and asked for help…fast! What to do?
The PD read the letter and turned ashen! Racing out of his office he ran down to the conference room and interrupted a special emergency Executive Committee meeting that was underway. The topic? Unlicensed Vietnamese medical personnel!
Unbeknownst to my friend, one of the young rogue physicians on the staff had gone off the reservation by hiring three unlicensed Vietnamese physicians and planned to set them up in satellite offices in nearby towns. They would work under his supervision and would see patients just like a state licensed physician! The special meeting was convened to discuss ways to stop this.
When the committee members read my friend's letter to himself, he was summoned to appear. Curtly, the CEO demanded to know how this came to be. One of the physicians was particularly incensed and demanded to know by what authority my friend had arranged for these three students. When my friend attempted to explain, he was rudely interrupted by yet another doctor who told him that he knew of this Quang Ti Duc fellow as he was the ringleader of the group and was hostile to all with round eyes.
A melee ensued and it was several minutes before my friend was able to respond. When he did speak, it was to report all this was merely a complicated joke with the Personnel Director as the target. There was no Hang Son Moon nor was there a Le Duc Tho. The ringleader, one Quang Ti Duc, was a figment of the imagination. My friend knew nothing about the other activities and told the committee that it was just an unfortunate coincidence that the phony letter was given to the Personnel Director on the same day and at the same time that the emergency meeting was held! Bad luck all around.
An uncomfortable silence developed and the CEO dismissed my friend saying they would talk later. Yes, they would indeed have a talk; several of them in fact, but that is a story for another day.
News of this went though the Hospital grapevine like wildfire. Everyone (well, almost everyone) had a good laugh at the unintended consequences of the prank. My friend vowed never to pull a joke on anyone again, but then again...maybe just one more.
AT THE ZOO
A young physician joined the staff of our hospital in Western Kansas and soon it was his turn to rotate through the Emergency Room. He was immediately swamped with sick kids, bumps, bruises, lacerations and old folks with trouble breathing
About 10:00 am, the EMT's reported by radio that they were bringing in a victim of an animal mauling. The victim was reported to have suffered many cuts, scratches, and bites. When the young physician saw the patient, he was aghast! He had never seen so many deep lacerations with spurting bleeders and obvious large animal bites in his life! He quickly set about clamping off the arterial bleeders while giving the patient a generous sedative to keep him from being so distressed while he was being cared for.
After a couple of hours of tedious work and a few hundred stitches, followed by a tetanus shot and massive antibiotics, the patient was admitted and sent to the surgical floor. It was only then that the police were able visit with the doctor and he learned what had happened.
The victim was a caretaker at the Zoo and had been responsible for the carnivores for twenty five years. Lions, tigers, and bears were all were under his care. He would transfer them from one cage to another, clean the soiled cage, place fresh water and food in the newly cleaned pen, and then reverse the procedure.
On this morning, he made a small mistake and forgot to latch the door connecting the cages. The old Polar bear almost had his head through the door when the caretaker realized he was nearly free. He attempted to close the door. When he pushed the door back the bear simply lunged forward and attacked him!
Fortunately, a police officer drove by at the very start of the mauling and dispatched the bear with several shots from his pistol. He called for back up and an ambulance, then attempted to roll the bear off the terrified caretaker. When help arrived, several men were required to move the dead bear and free the caretaker. He was treated at the scene and rapidly transported to the hospital.
The young doctor told this story many times at special meetings over the next few years . He was struck by the irony that one of his first patients, while working in the great Southwest American desert, was a victim of…a polar bear mauling!
PAGING DR. TURDELL
One night I called the ICU to talk with my co-worker. The phone was answered by a male nurse who had this to say; “Good evening, World’s Best Hospital, Intensive Care Unit, Kevin speaking, how may I help you?” Whew! A wacko who answers a phone like this just begs for a snappy comeback.
In a loud voice, I replied, “Kevin! This is Dr.Turdell! You got any coffee down there?”
"Who is this now?” he asked.
“Coffee!” I said. “I’m making rounds and will be down there in ten minutes. I’ll want a couple of sandwiches too and make it fast. I’ll be in a big hurry.” Bang! I hung up the phone, waited a couple of minutes and strolled down to the Unit to see what havoc I had created.
Kevin was in a state of near apoplexy, trying to fix a fresh pot of coffee and figure out where to get sandwiches for this very important personage who was coming down. I got there just as he was telling the charge nurse what had happened. He did not know the physician's name.
Attempting to be helpful, I told them “Oh, you must be referring to Dr. Turdell. I heard him yelling at someone to make some coffee and sandwiches."
“Just who is this Dr. Turdell?” asked the charge nurse.
I said, “You’re asking me? Who is J. Winthrop Turdell, III? Why, he’s one of the really big admitters here." Did I get a mention I go a nearly violent reaction here? I should have. Wow!
Everybody then began racing around trying to find sandwich fixin's. My co-worker appeared on the scene and after taking all this in, asked Kevin what was going on. Kevin was too excited to be really coherent, but my co-worker tumbled to the joke immediately.
Looking over at me, he raised one eyebrow slightly and pointed at me. I grinned and imperceptibly nodded one time only. We walked back to our office and I told him all about it. He laughed and then suggested I get the hell out of Dodge till this blew over. I concurred.
After a while, they figured it out. Next time I went down there, it was like entering an armed camp. Unprofessional, immature, stupid, uncalled for, and dangerous were only a few of the printable words thrown my way.
Oh, what the hell? On a slow evening it sure woke everybody up, didn’t it?
THE ANNIVERSARY
Part of the joy of providing respiratory support service to home patients on oxygen and ventilator care is the relaxed way in which one interacts with the patients. These folks are in their element here as opposed to being in the sterile environment of a hospital setting. We are on their turf now and it's gratifying to see the changes is their personalities.
In some cases, it was sad to know that when I arrived at the home, my visit appeared to be the highlight of the week for these neglected folks who have been all but forgotten by former friends and family members.
One of my favorite stories was of an elderly couple who lived in a small Kansas town. When I arrived to service their oxygen concentrator, they were still excited about the wonderful evening they had on their 48th wedding anniversary.
"Oh, it was just great!!", they told me. "We went into the city, saw a great movie and then had a wonderful supper." (for those who live in Topeka, Kansas, there are three meals every day; breakfast, the morning meal, dinner, the noon meal, and supper, the evening meal) They went on to tell me all about the movie, who was in it, and what the story was about. It was clear to me that they indeed had a nice date.
I nearly choked when they told me about the elegant supper they had in response to my asking them which restaurant they chose for their special anniversary meal.
Grinning hugely, they replied in unison, "Long John Silver's!"
HOME MADE BREAD
I had just finished my first visit to a home where a little boy was on a ventilator until he grew large enough to undergo a special surgical procedure that would allow him to assume a much more normal life. Optimism ran high in this home and I was pleased to be a part of it.
As I got ready to leave, the young mom asked if I could come on Tuesday afternoons instead of Thursdays." Well, yes, I could do that.
"Oh, good!" she said. "What time will you be coming on Tuesdays?"
I gave her my stock answer of sometime between 1:00 pm and 5:00 pm.
She then looked a little disappointed and asked if I could narrow it down a little more. I told her it was all dependent upon other visits yhat were scheduled on those days and where she would fit in with them; geographically speaking.
She replied, "That's unfortunate. You see, I bake homemade bread on Tuesday afternoons and I hoped to have some warm bread ready for you when you arrive. Oh, well..."
Hm. After a moment's thought, I asked her what time the bread would be coming out of the oven on Tuesdays.
She replied, "About 2:00 pm."
After another moment's thought on my part and I said, "I'll be here at 2:00 pm on Tuesdays!"
DOUGHNUTS TOO
Another elderly couple wanted me to come at 9:00 am. While it is difficult to guarantee a specific time, inducements can be made. When this request was made of me, it was asked right after I was given the information that the old fella (cagey old dude) loved to make fresh homemade doughnuts in the mornings. He advised that they would be ready at 9:00 am.
What else could I say? After all, I had previous experience in these matters after enjoying fresh homemade bread from the oven of the young mom.
"Yep, I can do that. I'll be here at 9:00 am!"
PB
QUANG TI DUC
This was a practical joke that went badly awry. During the time when South Vietnamese refugees were being relocated to the redistribution center at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, a fellow department head thought it would be amusing to rattle the cage of the Director of Personnel.
He had been attempting to find three students for his small school of Nuclear Medicine and was having no takers. According to the Federal employment laws, the Personnel Director was required to post the position on the hospital bill board before seeking applicants from outside the organization. Who knows, maybe there is an individual presently employed in the Housekeeping Department with degrees in Radiology, Chemistry, Physics, and Biology. Not likely, but hey…it could happen.
After waiting a week to see if someone miraculously appeared from within, it became obvious to even the PD that more aggressive efforts would be required. Ads were then placed in several large Kansas newspapers and he settled back to wait.
My friend saw this as a golden opportunity for an extraordinary practical joke and proceeded to create a letterhead from Fort Chaffee and upon it he wrote a heartfelt letter of thanks to himself; he who had expressed such great concern for these unfortunate victims of circumstance. Yep, that oughta do it.
In the letter, he listed three fictitious Vietnamese applicants with medical backgrounds and wonderfully grand names; Hang Son Moon, Le Duc Tho, and the only one of the three who spoke the King’s English, the star of the show, one Quang Ti Duc!
The Fort Chaffee official advised my friend that based upon their conversations, he was thrilled to know that these three ‘students’ would be most welcome in our town and at our Hospital.
He also advised that they would be arriving on July 4th (how appropriate) to attend the school of Nuclear Medicine. Thoughtfully, a small stipend would be provided including lodging quarters, meals, and transportation. Green cards would be procured for the students by my friend, and just like that, three deserving refugees would gain legal entrance to America and her boundless opportunities.
The final sentence was the kicker saying that as soon as the ‘boys’ were settled, the wives and children would be arriving…along with many extended family members of which there was a veritable Greek Chorus including; fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts, grandfathers, grandmothers, etc! All were so happy and immensely grateful to my friend; scarcely able to wait until they would meet this wonderful benefactor.
Zounds! This should cause the Personnel Director a modicum of panic.
So, when the time was right, my friend, in an agitated state, approached the Personnel Director and admitted he had inadvertently created an enormous problem and asked for help…fast! What to do?
The PD read the letter and turned ashen! Racing out of his office he ran down to the conference room and interrupted a special emergency Executive Committee meeting that was underway. The topic? Unlicensed Vietnamese medical personnel!
Unbeknownst to my friend, one of the young rogue physicians on the staff had gone off the reservation by hiring three unlicensed Vietnamese physicians and planned to set them up in satellite offices in nearby towns. They would work under his supervision and would see patients just like a state licensed physician! The special meeting was convened to discuss ways to stop this.
When the committee members read my friend's letter to himself, he was summoned to appear. Curtly, the CEO demanded to know how this came to be. One of the physicians was particularly incensed and demanded to know by what authority my friend had arranged for these three students. When my friend attempted to explain, he was rudely interrupted by yet another doctor who told him that he knew of this Quang Ti Duc fellow as he was the ringleader of the group and was hostile to all with round eyes.
A melee ensued and it was several minutes before my friend was able to respond. When he did speak, it was to report all this was merely a complicated joke with the Personnel Director as the target. There was no Hang Son Moon nor was there a Le Duc Tho. The ringleader, one Quang Ti Duc, was a figment of the imagination. My friend knew nothing about the other activities and told the committee that it was just an unfortunate coincidence that the phony letter was given to the Personnel Director on the same day and at the same time that the emergency meeting was held! Bad luck all around.
An uncomfortable silence developed and the CEO dismissed my friend saying they would talk later. Yes, they would indeed have a talk; several of them in fact, but that is a story for another day.
News of this went though the Hospital grapevine like wildfire. Everyone (well, almost everyone) had a good laugh at the unintended consequences of the prank. My friend vowed never to pull a joke on anyone again, but then again...maybe just one more.
AT THE ZOO
A young physician joined the staff of our hospital in Western Kansas and soon it was his turn to rotate through the Emergency Room. He was immediately swamped with sick kids, bumps, bruises, lacerations and old folks with trouble breathing
About 10:00 am, the EMT's reported by radio that they were bringing in a victim of an animal mauling. The victim was reported to have suffered many cuts, scratches, and bites. When the young physician saw the patient, he was aghast! He had never seen so many deep lacerations with spurting bleeders and obvious large animal bites in his life! He quickly set about clamping off the arterial bleeders while giving the patient a generous sedative to keep him from being so distressed while he was being cared for.
After a couple of hours of tedious work and a few hundred stitches, followed by a tetanus shot and massive antibiotics, the patient was admitted and sent to the surgical floor. It was only then that the police were able visit with the doctor and he learned what had happened.
The victim was a caretaker at the Zoo and had been responsible for the carnivores for twenty five years. Lions, tigers, and bears were all were under his care. He would transfer them from one cage to another, clean the soiled cage, place fresh water and food in the newly cleaned pen, and then reverse the procedure.
On this morning, he made a small mistake and forgot to latch the door connecting the cages. The old Polar bear almost had his head through the door when the caretaker realized he was nearly free. He attempted to close the door. When he pushed the door back the bear simply lunged forward and attacked him!
Fortunately, a police officer drove by at the very start of the mauling and dispatched the bear with several shots from his pistol. He called for back up and an ambulance, then attempted to roll the bear off the terrified caretaker. When help arrived, several men were required to move the dead bear and free the caretaker. He was treated at the scene and rapidly transported to the hospital.
The young doctor told this story many times at special meetings over the next few years . He was struck by the irony that one of his first patients, while working in the great Southwest American desert, was a victim of…a polar bear mauling!
PAGING DR. TURDELL
One night I called the ICU to talk with my co-worker. The phone was answered by a male nurse who had this to say; “Good evening, World’s Best Hospital, Intensive Care Unit, Kevin speaking, how may I help you?” Whew! A wacko who answers a phone like this just begs for a snappy comeback.
In a loud voice, I replied, “Kevin! This is Dr.Turdell! You got any coffee down there?”
"Who is this now?” he asked.
“Coffee!” I said. “I’m making rounds and will be down there in ten minutes. I’ll want a couple of sandwiches too and make it fast. I’ll be in a big hurry.” Bang! I hung up the phone, waited a couple of minutes and strolled down to the Unit to see what havoc I had created.
Kevin was in a state of near apoplexy, trying to fix a fresh pot of coffee and figure out where to get sandwiches for this very important personage who was coming down. I got there just as he was telling the charge nurse what had happened. He did not know the physician's name.
Attempting to be helpful, I told them “Oh, you must be referring to Dr. Turdell. I heard him yelling at someone to make some coffee and sandwiches."
“Just who is this Dr. Turdell?” asked the charge nurse.
I said, “You’re asking me? Who is J. Winthrop Turdell, III? Why, he’s one of the really big admitters here." Did I get a mention I go a nearly violent reaction here? I should have. Wow!
Everybody then began racing around trying to find sandwich fixin's. My co-worker appeared on the scene and after taking all this in, asked Kevin what was going on. Kevin was too excited to be really coherent, but my co-worker tumbled to the joke immediately.
Looking over at me, he raised one eyebrow slightly and pointed at me. I grinned and imperceptibly nodded one time only. We walked back to our office and I told him all about it. He laughed and then suggested I get the hell out of Dodge till this blew over. I concurred.
After a while, they figured it out. Next time I went down there, it was like entering an armed camp. Unprofessional, immature, stupid, uncalled for, and dangerous were only a few of the printable words thrown my way.
Oh, what the hell? On a slow evening it sure woke everybody up, didn’t it?
THE ANNIVERSARY
Part of the joy of providing respiratory support service to home patients on oxygen and ventilator care is the relaxed way in which one interacts with the patients. These folks are in their element here as opposed to being in the sterile environment of a hospital setting. We are on their turf now and it's gratifying to see the changes is their personalities.
In some cases, it was sad to know that when I arrived at the home, my visit appeared to be the highlight of the week for these neglected folks who have been all but forgotten by former friends and family members.
One of my favorite stories was of an elderly couple who lived in a small Kansas town. When I arrived to service their oxygen concentrator, they were still excited about the wonderful evening they had on their 48th wedding anniversary.
"Oh, it was just great!!", they told me. "We went into the city, saw a great movie and then had a wonderful supper." (for those who live in Topeka, Kansas, there are three meals every day; breakfast, the morning meal, dinner, the noon meal, and supper, the evening meal) They went on to tell me all about the movie, who was in it, and what the story was about. It was clear to me that they indeed had a nice date.
I nearly choked when they told me about the elegant supper they had in response to my asking them which restaurant they chose for their special anniversary meal.
Grinning hugely, they replied in unison, "Long John Silver's!"
HOME MADE BREAD
I had just finished my first visit to a home where a little boy was on a ventilator until he grew large enough to undergo a special surgical procedure that would allow him to assume a much more normal life. Optimism ran high in this home and I was pleased to be a part of it.
As I got ready to leave, the young mom asked if I could come on Tuesday afternoons instead of Thursdays." Well, yes, I could do that.
"Oh, good!" she said. "What time will you be coming on Tuesdays?"
I gave her my stock answer of sometime between 1:00 pm and 5:00 pm.
She then looked a little disappointed and asked if I could narrow it down a little more. I told her it was all dependent upon other visits yhat were scheduled on those days and where she would fit in with them; geographically speaking.
She replied, "That's unfortunate. You see, I bake homemade bread on Tuesday afternoons and I hoped to have some warm bread ready for you when you arrive. Oh, well..."
Hm. After a moment's thought, I asked her what time the bread would be coming out of the oven on Tuesdays.
She replied, "About 2:00 pm."
After another moment's thought on my part and I said, "I'll be here at 2:00 pm on Tuesdays!"
DOUGHNUTS TOO
Another elderly couple wanted me to come at 9:00 am. While it is difficult to guarantee a specific time, inducements can be made. When this request was made of me, it was asked right after I was given the information that the old fella (cagey old dude) loved to make fresh homemade doughnuts in the mornings. He advised that they would be ready at 9:00 am.
What else could I say? After all, I had previous experience in these matters after enjoying fresh homemade bread from the oven of the young mom.
"Yep, I can do that. I'll be here at 9:00 am!"
PB
Friday, June 4, 2010
Arizona Cracks Down
It's time someone should document exactly what is going on in Arizona with their new law dealing with illegal immigrants. Okay, you talked me into it. I'll say just a few words.
According to the news media, it’s been likened to Hitler’s prosecution of Jewish people back in the 1940’s. Like everything connected with the mainstream news media, this is rubbish!
Growing up in West Texas, this subject is not news to me nor is it news to the ranchers who live along the borders of Texas and Arizona. Actually this law is virtually a carbon copy of the current Federal law which is not being enforced.
Let’s establish one thing right now. This law is not aimed directly at the immigrants who come to the USA to escape extreme poverty and violence in Mexico. Nope, even though they enter the country illegally, they are not the target of this new Arizona law. The illegals are really in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could they not come in through the front door using the INS legally? Shame on the news media for failure to do right in reporting this truthfully.
This fact is common knowledge among the ranchers who live along the border. What the news media does not report, (why anyone would believe any of the drivel these cretins write is beyond me) is the blatant border terrorism going on now and which has been going on for a long time. Specifically, we are talking about the violent and deadly drug cartels.
When a rancher returns home with his family to find a woman’s severed head on his mail box, that sort of gets his attention. Why has a journalist not reported this? When there is a $250,000 bounty placed on the head of a Border Patrolman by the drug cartel, why has a journalist not reported this?
The answer is simple. It’s not politically correct. Being politically correct is best described as wild eyed lunatics, (see the current crop of elected Liberal Democrats) loudly screeching through foam flecked lips, insisting that it is indeed possible to pick up a turd by the clean end! Real journalists have gone the way of the dodo bird. Dismiss the present news readers and talking heads from anything resembling credibility or reliability. They are useless and can actually be hazardous to your health.
More than forty tunnels have been discovered connecting Nogales, Mexico to Nogales, Arizona. These underground tunnels are structurally very sound, using the latest engineering techniques to reinforce, light, and ventilate the corridors. They come up inside warehouses controlled by the drug cartels and are used to flood the US with illegal drugs. These tunnels are as far as 400 yards inside the USA and are used to dump in many undocumented immigrants along with the drugs to further confuse the issue.
As a direct result of the border violence and terrorism, many ranchers are selling out and moving north. So…who buys their land? You guessed it; one of the drug cartels. In this fashion, they control long stretches of the border and can freely move drugs and people through this private gateway as well. Did I mention that the drugs cartels have lots of money? I should have.
Mexico’s current President, one Felipe Calderon (who could only become a bigger fool if he gained some weight) has proposed a tightening of American gun laws to prevent his criminals from arming themselves! In the extreme, this is wanton bullshit!
Calderon blames the USA’s second amendment for his country’s failure to control his own home grown criminals. Look how successful Mexico's strict gun laws have been in rendering his few remaining honest citizens helpless and defenseless.
Truthfully, I feel he has received guidance in this harebrained idea from some of our own home grown traitors, idiots, and worthless sons of bitches like Senator Charles Schumer, Senator Diane Feinstein, and New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg.
These despicable and unethical charlatons, along with George Soros of Moveon.org, really want the assault weapons ban reinstated at any cost to us along with even more severe restrictions added! We must be more careful about who we elect.
Calderon conveniently forgets how his country, back in 1858 if my memory of Texas history serves me correctly, President Santa Anna deeded over Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and California to the USA in return for safe passage back to Mexico so he could once again install himself as Mexico’s President.(editor's note: it would be okay with me if we gave California back)
There are three ways to defeat the drug cartels. One way is to shoot on sight everyone who illegally crosses the border, but the problem here is how would the shooter know who were the drug dealers and who were the innocent pawns known as undocumented immigrants?
The second way is to legalize drugs in this country. By selling drugs in liquor stores, the government could remove the profit motive from the sale of illegal drugs. Also the government could collect yet another whopping tax while saving the vast amounts of money currently being wasted on pretend efforts to stop the flow across our borders.
Finally, the criminal element can be arrested, prosecuted and sentenced to long, severe, and miserable terms in tent city prison compounds in the desert. Just because many criminals are breaking the law in no justification to stop the enforcement of these laws.
I personally favor the swift capture and sentencing of the criminals, but in reality none of these solutions are totally practical.
Right now, there are no other viable solutions. Until there is, Arizona and Texas ranchers are left to deal with this problem as best they can. That means some innocent victims from both sides of the border may get collected and this responsibility will rest squarely on the shoulders of the President of the USA. Not to decide…is to decide. Get off the pot, Obama. Time to man up!
Short of contracting with the Israelis for help in controlling our southern borders, I see no long term effective solution.
In the meantime, we must be very grateful for our second amendment and protect it vigorously! It’s all we have that separates us from the rampant violence of third world countries…like Calderon's Mexico.
Vote responsibly. This time; it's for real!
PB
According to the news media, it’s been likened to Hitler’s prosecution of Jewish people back in the 1940’s. Like everything connected with the mainstream news media, this is rubbish!
Growing up in West Texas, this subject is not news to me nor is it news to the ranchers who live along the borders of Texas and Arizona. Actually this law is virtually a carbon copy of the current Federal law which is not being enforced.
Let’s establish one thing right now. This law is not aimed directly at the immigrants who come to the USA to escape extreme poverty and violence in Mexico. Nope, even though they enter the country illegally, they are not the target of this new Arizona law. The illegals are really in the wrong place at the wrong time. Could they not come in through the front door using the INS legally? Shame on the news media for failure to do right in reporting this truthfully.
This fact is common knowledge among the ranchers who live along the border. What the news media does not report, (why anyone would believe any of the drivel these cretins write is beyond me) is the blatant border terrorism going on now and which has been going on for a long time. Specifically, we are talking about the violent and deadly drug cartels.
When a rancher returns home with his family to find a woman’s severed head on his mail box, that sort of gets his attention. Why has a journalist not reported this? When there is a $250,000 bounty placed on the head of a Border Patrolman by the drug cartel, why has a journalist not reported this?
The answer is simple. It’s not politically correct. Being politically correct is best described as wild eyed lunatics, (see the current crop of elected Liberal Democrats) loudly screeching through foam flecked lips, insisting that it is indeed possible to pick up a turd by the clean end! Real journalists have gone the way of the dodo bird. Dismiss the present news readers and talking heads from anything resembling credibility or reliability. They are useless and can actually be hazardous to your health.
More than forty tunnels have been discovered connecting Nogales, Mexico to Nogales, Arizona. These underground tunnels are structurally very sound, using the latest engineering techniques to reinforce, light, and ventilate the corridors. They come up inside warehouses controlled by the drug cartels and are used to flood the US with illegal drugs. These tunnels are as far as 400 yards inside the USA and are used to dump in many undocumented immigrants along with the drugs to further confuse the issue.
As a direct result of the border violence and terrorism, many ranchers are selling out and moving north. So…who buys their land? You guessed it; one of the drug cartels. In this fashion, they control long stretches of the border and can freely move drugs and people through this private gateway as well. Did I mention that the drugs cartels have lots of money? I should have.
Mexico’s current President, one Felipe Calderon (who could only become a bigger fool if he gained some weight) has proposed a tightening of American gun laws to prevent his criminals from arming themselves! In the extreme, this is wanton bullshit!
Calderon blames the USA’s second amendment for his country’s failure to control his own home grown criminals. Look how successful Mexico's strict gun laws have been in rendering his few remaining honest citizens helpless and defenseless.
Truthfully, I feel he has received guidance in this harebrained idea from some of our own home grown traitors, idiots, and worthless sons of bitches like Senator Charles Schumer, Senator Diane Feinstein, and New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg.
These despicable and unethical charlatons, along with George Soros of Moveon.org, really want the assault weapons ban reinstated at any cost to us along with even more severe restrictions added! We must be more careful about who we elect.
Calderon conveniently forgets how his country, back in 1858 if my memory of Texas history serves me correctly, President Santa Anna deeded over Texas, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and California to the USA in return for safe passage back to Mexico so he could once again install himself as Mexico’s President.(editor's note: it would be okay with me if we gave California back)
There are three ways to defeat the drug cartels. One way is to shoot on sight everyone who illegally crosses the border, but the problem here is how would the shooter know who were the drug dealers and who were the innocent pawns known as undocumented immigrants?
The second way is to legalize drugs in this country. By selling drugs in liquor stores, the government could remove the profit motive from the sale of illegal drugs. Also the government could collect yet another whopping tax while saving the vast amounts of money currently being wasted on pretend efforts to stop the flow across our borders.
Finally, the criminal element can be arrested, prosecuted and sentenced to long, severe, and miserable terms in tent city prison compounds in the desert. Just because many criminals are breaking the law in no justification to stop the enforcement of these laws.
I personally favor the swift capture and sentencing of the criminals, but in reality none of these solutions are totally practical.
Right now, there are no other viable solutions. Until there is, Arizona and Texas ranchers are left to deal with this problem as best they can. That means some innocent victims from both sides of the border may get collected and this responsibility will rest squarely on the shoulders of the President of the USA. Not to decide…is to decide. Get off the pot, Obama. Time to man up!
Short of contracting with the Israelis for help in controlling our southern borders, I see no long term effective solution.
In the meantime, we must be very grateful for our second amendment and protect it vigorously! It’s all we have that separates us from the rampant violence of third world countries…like Calderon's Mexico.
Vote responsibly. This time; it's for real!
PB
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting
The Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting was founded by Ray Chapman in the middle 1970's His previous experience in the Marine Corps and Law Enforcement led him to become involved in competitive shooting. He opened the Academy shortly after he won the inaugural World Championship of Practical Shooting in 1975 with a near perfect score following this by winning over 250 major shooting tournaments.
Shortly after winning that first Championship, he initiated the Bianchi Cup, an International Pistol Competition held at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri. Because of his strong belief that civilians should strive to become proficient in urban combat skills and opened the Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting.
As his personal reputation grew, as a direct extension of his shooting skill, so too did the school benefit and it's reputation for excellence expanded rapidly among shooters. Those who have been fortunate enough to attend any of his programs benefited greatly from the teaching principles he imparted. Some of his clients include all types of law enforcement personnel, Highway Patrol officers, SWAT teams, DELTA force teams, and Navy SEALS. Yes, and even old duffers like me!
Ray semi retired from the Academy around 1996 and promoted John Skaggs to serve as Director and Chief Instructor of the Chapman Academy. Ray made a few appearance for special classes of returning students over the next few years. John Skaggs continued on until 2004 when he suffered a debilitating strokeand has not yet been able to return. John carried the same principles forward as taught by Ray and was excellent in making difficult tactical problems look easy.
His easy going manner inspired confidence and approachability, but when a group of Navy SEALS goofed up and shot the mirrors off the old Toyota range truck, they learned new words to add to their vocabulary.
The lack of civilian competency with defensive pistol skills became evident after Florida passed the Concealed Weapons law in 1987. Ray’s Chapman Academy took over where state requirement ended. This column describes my experience at the Chapman Academy for three days in May, many years ago. But first, a little background…
In the modern era, concealed carry has been a fact of life since Florida first opened the door in 1987. It was not uniformly embraced by the ‘Chicken Little’ news media who trumpeted dire predictions of shoot outs at high noon, blood running in the streets, gun battles over parking spaces, and macho gun fights. These bizarre claims were in the Florida newspapers daily.
History has proven them to be totally wrong. And just how wrong were they? Try this. While an immediate decrease in personal violent crime was observed, a drastic increase in car hijackings began taking place within a year of the implementation of this law. How can this be? This law was intended to provide the private citizen with the ability to protect themselves. Why then are we seeing an increase in violent crime?
Interesting question, and the increase in car hijackings overshadowed the decrease in one on one violence. But of even more interest were the answers that the investigators discovered. The profile of the hijack victims fit a narrow set circumstances. All of them were tourists. All of them entered Florida for vacations from busy International airports. All of them rented an upscale automobile. How does concealed carry fit into this scenario? Puzzling. Investigators (Rossi et al) decided to go to the source and asked those who were involved.
Setting up a series of interviews with felons who had been recently arrested for hijackings and muggings, it was learned that it was because of the recent law that had armed private citizens that criminals had changed their tactics; drastically.
Note well that there have been fewer than 1% of license holders out of millions nationwide who have mishandled their responsibilty. Virtually none of us are cop wannabes. Compared to the police, our gun handling skills are learned only to help us survive an attack. That's it!
Police on the other hand, must pursue felons into dark alleys, into dangerous buildings and apprehend them; all while adhering to a ridiculous set of politically correct rules of conduct. The tactics they use and the decision they make will then be second guessed by armchair quarterbacks who were not there and did not have to make a life saving decision in a split second. My respect for these men and women is boundless. Civilian license holders need merely to get away without damage to tender hide.
Well, enough of that. Let's get back to the car hijackers who have now learned to station themselves in the airports, waiting for passengers to disembark. Some of them even memorized the arrival times of all overseas flights as well as national arrivals from bigger cities.
Well dressed couples, young and old, preferably without children, were selected upon disembarking and followed through the airport to the baggage section, then on to the car rental desks, on out to the shuttle buses, ending at the pick up point of the rental car.
From there, the rental car itself was identified and followed by the hijackers. When the victims had reached a part of town that was less populated, the hijackers would gently bump the rear end of the victim’s car. As the law abiding folks stopped to exchange information as the rental brochures advised, the car was taken over by the bad guys. From there the victims were driven to a secluded place where the target was relieved of money, watches, clothes, tickets, credit cards and other items that could be fenced to pawn shops. In certain cases, the victims were killed!
Why? The reason is more simple than the biased news media is willing to believe. Did I mention I have no respect for members of Liberal news media? I should have.
If the victims had high limit credit cards, then killing them prevented American Express from being aware that the card had been stolen. No survivors meant no one will call to report the card stolen. This gave the hijackers more days and hours to make more purchases before the card was deactivated. Think that’s bad? Read on.
In California, young gang bangers crawl under an expensive car in exclusive shopping centers. When the driver, usually elderly women who had been pre selected, returns to her car, the miscreant reaches out with a sharp knife and cuts her on the back of her ankle, severing the Achilles tendon.
As the victim lies flopping around on the pavement, helpless, she is relieved of her purse, credit cards, and various and sundry articles that could be exchanged for cash money at pawn shops. The crowning blow was the use of bolt cutters to remove ring fingers with swollen arthritic knuckles so that her large diamond rings could more easily be removed. Nice kids. Driving away in her expensive car was a bonus and finished the crime.
Remember well that these are dangerous and vicious criminals; not far removed from rabid animals. They are not overly bright, but they are astute enough to know that selecting a Florida resident may expose them to a CCW license holder and they will face a victim who will actually fight back.
Being cowardly as well as lazy, they greet the incoming flights that provide an endless supply of targets consisting of safe and most importantly, unarmed victims. But, you may ask, how do they know the tourists are unarmed? The secret, Baba Looie, is because of the stringent Federal laws prohibiting firearms on commercial aircraft!
So now we know that the concealed carry law has indeed altered the behavior of career criminals as they go about their business of choosing safer victims. This in itself is very good, but brings up some additional questions. Just how competent are these license holders?
If the only training they received is the state mandated requirements, that training is woefully inadequate. Speaking from personal experience, I can attest to the fact that the initial class that qualified me for my Texas CHL was not related to anything other that minimum safety rules and very basic shooting qualification.
As a bonus, information was imparted about places to carry and not carry, along with circumstances that justify use of a firearm in self defense. That was about it. I was extremely uneasy when I began carrying. It's a common phenomenon among new license holders.
In talking with friends who were active law enforcement officers, they were unanimous in recommending a basic “Introduction to Defensive Pistol” course followed by regular practice and monthly participation in organized practical shooting scenarios. The Chapman Academy offered the highly desirable introduction course that I sorely needed. I quickly signed up for the three day program and headed for Columbia.
In my truck, I had two fine pistols that I would use for the course along with the minimum recommended 1,500 rounds of new factory ammo. Additionally, I took along that minimum required inventory, plus an extra 2,000 rounds of reloaded ammo, a third back up pistol, holsters for all, complete with several extra magazines, a cleaning kit, eye and ear protection, a bandanna to keep hot brass from entering my shirt at the neck, and knee and elbow pads as recommended by the faculty. Did I mention I really enjoy shooting? I should have.
Early on a beautiful Friday morning in May, I appeared at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri, ready to learn. There were eight of us in the class and we spent a few minutes in the classroom with John Skaggs as he went over the outline of the course and the rules of the range.
We would learn the basics of the course as developed by Ray Chapman; shoot effectively, move quickly, and utilize cover. From this, all other skills grow.
For safety, the range was designated as a ‘cold’ range. This means the firearm is always in the holster, always unloaded, and with the magazine well always empty and open. Loading took place only on the firing line, and only when directed by the range officer. Failure to follow this rule would be met with a percussion solo as performed upon the head of the violator by John, followed by an unceremonius dismissal without benefit of a refund. Safety is a serious business at the Chapman Academy.
We started with some basic dry firing as the proper grip was demonstrated and the techniques of two rounds center mass was discussed. Finally, we got to the point where John decided we were ready to start. This went well and we shot a couple of hundred rounds. Break time. We sat in the shade and cleaned our pistols while listening to a review of our individual strengths and weaknesses along with a description of the next drill; shooting on the move.
For this dynamic drill, we again start with the dry fire exercise. This scenario deals with two attackers who, when some distance away, look at one another, move apart and with weapons drawn, advance toward us. John demonstrates the “Groucho” walk, using a smooth, gliding walk, advancing toward the threats, and shooting as he goes! Most street criminals are accustomed to seeing their victims submit without resistance or running away.
We do neither. We not only are not running away, we are headed their way decisively and aggressively. Not only are we headed their way, we are shooting at them as we advance! This gives them two things to think about at the same time, creating too many moving parts for their small minds to process. They will either freeze and get shot or run away. If they try to shoot back at us they will have to hit a moving target and John explains that if a street criminal has no prior training, they won’t fare well.
Later John has us shooting at these threats while moving laterally left and right, while moving obliquely, and while backing away. This is the heart of the program; shoot, move, find cover.
Break time again. Clean those pistols. Modern semi automatic firearms work splendidly when kept clean and most of them like proper lubrication. To keep the gun running, keep it wet! If the gun stops running, it becomes a beautiful and attractive but relatively useless short club. Clean those pistols well, boys!
While we eat lunch, clean pistols and reload magazines, John describes the next exercise that will involve shooting from cover. Cover is described as something that will stop a bullet, like a concrete wall, a fire hydrant, or the engine compartment of a car.
Concealment is something that may hide us, but will not stop a bullet; a sheetrock wall, a thin door, an overturned table. Like learning to swim, it is better to learn now rather than jumping off into the deep end. It is good to be ready.
We are now prepared to shoot from the right side of cover, from the left side of cover, and various other positions. For example we could use a large tree even if we were some distance away from it. As long as we keep it between us and the threat, it can be used as cover.
Remember our objectives, shoot effectively, (hit the target) move quickly, (to cover or to the threat) use cover. (a tree, a concrete wall). This is priceless information that may save our lives one day. The CCW class makes it legal for us to carry concealed weapons, the Chapman Academy prepares us to defeat armed attackers and survive the encounter.
We spend the rest of the day repeating the drills we learned today. At 1630, John dismisses the class and warns us that not all bad guys are untrained. Some may have military experience and will be at least as competent as we are, maybe more. Do not assume they are without gun handling skills. Our objective is to avoid getting hurt or killed. And with that, everyone heads for the exit ready for hot showers and a good meal. But, not me…
I run headlong for the steel plate target range for a little more play time. I saw this range earlier in the day and just can’t resist a few shots at these reactive targets. These plates are in four groups of six plates each, and will go down with a clang and a satisfying thump. I shoot for just a few minutes…or so I thought. When I look at my watch I am astonished to see it’s almost 1900! (For those who live in Topeka, Kansas, this means 7:00 o'clock in the evening.)
I do a quick inventory of my remaining ammo to make sure I have enough to finish the course tomorrow and Sunday. Fortunately I brought along an extra 2000 rounds of reloads so I can shoot a little more. But the recoil, the muzzle blast, and the pounding are finally getting to me. One can only have so much fun.
Back at the Red Roof Inn, I enjoy a long hot shower, call home, make a couple of sandwiches, drink some Gator Aid and clean the pistols once more and reload the magazines. It has been a good day.
Saturday morning at McDonalds, two Egg Macs, a thermos of coffee, and I'm ready to head for the range. Was I the first shooter there? Yep, but not the first visitor. The range cat, named Sh*t Head greeted me with a smile. This cat appeared at the range as a dumped kitten a couple of years back. John and the guys took him in, provided regular meals and a warm place to sleep.
The ungrateful little wretch repaid this kindness by chewing up expensive leather goods left out in the open. As he grew older, he scratched up chair legs, sofa arms, and marked out his territory leaving his pungent scent everywhere. He was a mean little dude till one day John scooped him up and presented him to the local vet for a little well deserved and long overdue personal surgery. He came back to the range without cajones and was truly a...changed cat. Still a good mouser, though, but the girls held no fascination for him now.
I drank my coffee while waiting for the others to arrive. Today would be a scorcher with temperatures in the 90’s. John reviewed some observations from yesterday and we started the day with a repeat of Friday's drills. John made corrections here and there and generally seemed satisfied that we were progressing, but by the meal break we were all ready for something new. John did not disappoint.
The new drill would have us shooing at close range, from behind cover, and at a moving target. Sounds like fun.
John demonstrates the drill. A panhandler approaches at two yards, begging for money. When rebuffed, he pulls a knife and threatens us. For the first time, we hear the phrase “the need for speed, the need for precision.” This situation calls for speed. At the signal, John draws his pistol, holding it tight against his ribs, gets off two fast shots while moving backward and laterally. There is no time to draw, extend the arms, get the two handed grip, aim and shoot. It is logical and correct to assume that if the pistol is at the level of John’s ribs, it will therefore be at the level of the threat's ribs as well.
For a threat under four yards away, the procedure changes to where the position of the pistol is held in a partly extended shooting hand much as if you were going to shake hands with someone. To give yourself a little more time, you can move backward while you are drawing. For stability, your left arm is placed diagonally across your chest to form a supported shooting platform.
At all times the draw calls for the weak hand to move in close to your own chest and out of the line of fire from the muzzle of your own pistol. As Clint Smith of Thunder Ranch says, it does not help to set yourself on fire.
Next step is to engage the target at fifteen yards. There is still a need for speed but precision is more applicable here. Run to cover and engage the threat at fifteen yards. Then it’s on to the moving target that is twenty five yards away. That’s it. Oh, by the way, this must all be done in six seconds.
When we started this drill we all finished in less than six seconds which surprised all of us except John. The fact that we missed so many of the longer shots surprised all of us except John.
The rest of the day was spent working on this drill with one addition. Following our last two shots at the moving target, we reload and move to a long stairway leading up to a wall. We move up the stairs slowly one at a time using the wall for cover and engage the threats found in the courtyard.
Black steel discs are planted at thirty, twenty five, twenty, fifteen, ten, and five yards. The assignment is to take them out without hitting the white steel discs which are innocent bystanders or in some cases hostages. Remember “the need for speed, the need for precision”.
We conclude the day with this scenario. Tomorrow…is qualification day.
Sunday morning dawned, bright, clear, another beautiful spring day. Did I mention we have had perfect weather for this class? I should have.
We are all assembled at the range where we started on Friday. John goes over the course of fire and we learn that we must have a minimum of 170 points to qualify for a certificate. But we don't want just any old certificate, we want that Master's certificate!
The classifications are; Sharpshooter, Marksman, Expert, and Master but everybody wants the Master. For that we’ll need a minimum of 187 total points.
We start out with the stand up and shoot drill. John’s words echo in our little pink ears and we make sure our grip is tight, and our stance is right. Everybody comes through this phase without any problems. After yesterday, this seems very simple.
Next is the moving and shooting scenario. We all do the “Groucho” walk and nail these targets neatly as as we move forward. If memory serves me, I believe that John threw in an unexpected moving target near the end of this drill. He likes to see how we’ll react to surprises.
We take a short break again to clean pistols and reload magazines. John keeps his distance from us today as he wants to maintain absolute integrity; this is test time!
Now we are using cover as we shoot. This does not go as well as we expected because the ranges are a little longer than we rememberand we’re shooting from more difficult positions. Only two students earn enough points to still qualify for the Master certificate. The others could shoot a perfect score from here on and still be eliminated mathematically. Gettin’ tougher.
We remember the story John told about the police officer who was 6’4” and weighed around 245 pounds. He told John it was ridiculous to expect him to find adequate cover behind a fire hydrant. John told him any cover at all is better than no cover.
Some weeks later in real life, this same officer was involved in a shooting and took cover behind a fire hydrant! He told John there was more than enough room and even several of his buddies could have joined him behind that cover!
Heading into the final scenario, the Miami Massacre, I learn that I am up first. During the break, we also learned that one other student and I are the only two still in the hunt for the Master classification. More pressure!
John asks if I understand the course of fire and I nod yes. He then gives the order to load and make ready. I put a 17 round magazine in the Beretta 92 and rack the slide to load the chamber. Then I use the decocker lever to let the hammer down, holster the pistol, and nod that I am ready.
When the moving target starts, I draw and fire. But nothing happens! I had forgotten to return the decocker lever to the ready position! I correct this fast and race through the scenario. If I’m lucky, I can make up the lost time as I have been completing this drill in about 4 seconds. I ran to cover and took out the next target and got on the moving target as fast as I could. Could not tell if I got the mover with that second shot. It’s gonna be close.
Climbing the stairs and taking out the black steel targets without collecting a hostage or an innocent bystander went well requiring only one shot per each of the six threats.
I unload, show John the empty chamber and receive the order to holster the weapon and stand down That's it, I'm finished.
I have to now wait for the other seven shooters to finish the course. I use the time wisely and clean the pistol one last time. Lovingly, I reassemble it and wipe it down, placing it in the protective case. This didn’t take anywhere near long enough and I still have time to fret over my screw up.
Eventually every one finishes and we all trudge back to the class room where John and his staff tally up the scores. He tells me he knew I had forgotten to return the decocker lever to the ready position, but after all, this was a test. All coaching was ended at the start of the day.
He did say I made a great recovery and nearly got by with it anyway. The second shot hit the barricade just nano seconds after the target disappeared behind the wall. He said the shot was on line and would have scored the point, but…
How close was it? I needed 187 points to achieve Master. I accumulated 186.4 points. Even worse, the high score was only 191.4. If that last round had connected I would have achieved the Master classification and been high gun as well with 192 points. That was a costly mistake that I’ll grieve about for a long, long time.
John told me I will receive more benefit from that miss than I realize. He said I would never forget that again and it proved to him (and should prove to me) that I could recover from unexpected surprises. You know how John loves unexpected surprises.
But it still nags at me even today. Bill Jordan, the famous Texas Border Patrol legend wrote a book about not finishing first. He entitled the book, “No Second Place Winner.” Yep, that’s me; a second place non winner.
Bill Jordan’s gone now, along with Jeff Cooper and Ray Chapman. These splendid pioneers did much to bring competency to civilian shooters as well as military and law enforcement officers. Information about these fellows is abundant on the Internet. Google them up and see what interesting lives they led. You'll be glad you did. And check out the number of other shooting schools out there as well; Thunder Ranch in Oregon, Gunsite in Arizona, and Front Sight in Nevada.
John’s final speech told us we should be proud; we had come through a shooting program that put us on a level with that of a graduate police officer. We completed the same scenarios that are taught in the Police Academy curriculum across the nation, but he also cautioned that we were just now ready to learn something about shooting!
He urged us to practice what we had learned here and to participate in local events sponsored by the various national practical shooting sports organizations. Keep on shooting, he said.
There's much more to learn, he told us; situational awareness, weapons retention, low light shooting, shooting from prone and other awkward positions, carjacking prevention, room to room clearance in case a shopping mall is attacked by terrorists and you need to get your family out, and shooting from vehicles.
Remember to shoot effectively, move quickly, and use cover. Come back regularly for additional all the Advanced Defensive Pistol courses.
That was the last time I saw John Skaggs. I learned later that he had a stroke and has not yet returned to teaching. Then in February 2008, Ray Chapman died and the highly respected Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting closed its doors.
But we must continue; and here's a good way to do that.
Each May, the Bianchi Cup International Pistol Championship match lives on at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri.
Go there and watch; you'll be glad you did!
PB
Shortly after winning that first Championship, he initiated the Bianchi Cup, an International Pistol Competition held at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri. Because of his strong belief that civilians should strive to become proficient in urban combat skills and opened the Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting.
As his personal reputation grew, as a direct extension of his shooting skill, so too did the school benefit and it's reputation for excellence expanded rapidly among shooters. Those who have been fortunate enough to attend any of his programs benefited greatly from the teaching principles he imparted. Some of his clients include all types of law enforcement personnel, Highway Patrol officers, SWAT teams, DELTA force teams, and Navy SEALS. Yes, and even old duffers like me!
Ray semi retired from the Academy around 1996 and promoted John Skaggs to serve as Director and Chief Instructor of the Chapman Academy. Ray made a few appearance for special classes of returning students over the next few years. John Skaggs continued on until 2004 when he suffered a debilitating strokeand has not yet been able to return. John carried the same principles forward as taught by Ray and was excellent in making difficult tactical problems look easy.
His easy going manner inspired confidence and approachability, but when a group of Navy SEALS goofed up and shot the mirrors off the old Toyota range truck, they learned new words to add to their vocabulary.
The lack of civilian competency with defensive pistol skills became evident after Florida passed the Concealed Weapons law in 1987. Ray’s Chapman Academy took over where state requirement ended. This column describes my experience at the Chapman Academy for three days in May, many years ago. But first, a little background…
In the modern era, concealed carry has been a fact of life since Florida first opened the door in 1987. It was not uniformly embraced by the ‘Chicken Little’ news media who trumpeted dire predictions of shoot outs at high noon, blood running in the streets, gun battles over parking spaces, and macho gun fights. These bizarre claims were in the Florida newspapers daily.
History has proven them to be totally wrong. And just how wrong were they? Try this. While an immediate decrease in personal violent crime was observed, a drastic increase in car hijackings began taking place within a year of the implementation of this law. How can this be? This law was intended to provide the private citizen with the ability to protect themselves. Why then are we seeing an increase in violent crime?
Interesting question, and the increase in car hijackings overshadowed the decrease in one on one violence. But of even more interest were the answers that the investigators discovered. The profile of the hijack victims fit a narrow set circumstances. All of them were tourists. All of them entered Florida for vacations from busy International airports. All of them rented an upscale automobile. How does concealed carry fit into this scenario? Puzzling. Investigators (Rossi et al) decided to go to the source and asked those who were involved.
Setting up a series of interviews with felons who had been recently arrested for hijackings and muggings, it was learned that it was because of the recent law that had armed private citizens that criminals had changed their tactics; drastically.
Note well that there have been fewer than 1% of license holders out of millions nationwide who have mishandled their responsibilty. Virtually none of us are cop wannabes. Compared to the police, our gun handling skills are learned only to help us survive an attack. That's it!
Police on the other hand, must pursue felons into dark alleys, into dangerous buildings and apprehend them; all while adhering to a ridiculous set of politically correct rules of conduct. The tactics they use and the decision they make will then be second guessed by armchair quarterbacks who were not there and did not have to make a life saving decision in a split second. My respect for these men and women is boundless. Civilian license holders need merely to get away without damage to tender hide.
Well, enough of that. Let's get back to the car hijackers who have now learned to station themselves in the airports, waiting for passengers to disembark. Some of them even memorized the arrival times of all overseas flights as well as national arrivals from bigger cities.
Well dressed couples, young and old, preferably without children, were selected upon disembarking and followed through the airport to the baggage section, then on to the car rental desks, on out to the shuttle buses, ending at the pick up point of the rental car.
From there, the rental car itself was identified and followed by the hijackers. When the victims had reached a part of town that was less populated, the hijackers would gently bump the rear end of the victim’s car. As the law abiding folks stopped to exchange information as the rental brochures advised, the car was taken over by the bad guys. From there the victims were driven to a secluded place where the target was relieved of money, watches, clothes, tickets, credit cards and other items that could be fenced to pawn shops. In certain cases, the victims were killed!
Why? The reason is more simple than the biased news media is willing to believe. Did I mention I have no respect for members of Liberal news media? I should have.
If the victims had high limit credit cards, then killing them prevented American Express from being aware that the card had been stolen. No survivors meant no one will call to report the card stolen. This gave the hijackers more days and hours to make more purchases before the card was deactivated. Think that’s bad? Read on.
In California, young gang bangers crawl under an expensive car in exclusive shopping centers. When the driver, usually elderly women who had been pre selected, returns to her car, the miscreant reaches out with a sharp knife and cuts her on the back of her ankle, severing the Achilles tendon.
As the victim lies flopping around on the pavement, helpless, she is relieved of her purse, credit cards, and various and sundry articles that could be exchanged for cash money at pawn shops. The crowning blow was the use of bolt cutters to remove ring fingers with swollen arthritic knuckles so that her large diamond rings could more easily be removed. Nice kids. Driving away in her expensive car was a bonus and finished the crime.
Remember well that these are dangerous and vicious criminals; not far removed from rabid animals. They are not overly bright, but they are astute enough to know that selecting a Florida resident may expose them to a CCW license holder and they will face a victim who will actually fight back.
Being cowardly as well as lazy, they greet the incoming flights that provide an endless supply of targets consisting of safe and most importantly, unarmed victims. But, you may ask, how do they know the tourists are unarmed? The secret, Baba Looie, is because of the stringent Federal laws prohibiting firearms on commercial aircraft!
So now we know that the concealed carry law has indeed altered the behavior of career criminals as they go about their business of choosing safer victims. This in itself is very good, but brings up some additional questions. Just how competent are these license holders?
If the only training they received is the state mandated requirements, that training is woefully inadequate. Speaking from personal experience, I can attest to the fact that the initial class that qualified me for my Texas CHL was not related to anything other that minimum safety rules and very basic shooting qualification.
As a bonus, information was imparted about places to carry and not carry, along with circumstances that justify use of a firearm in self defense. That was about it. I was extremely uneasy when I began carrying. It's a common phenomenon among new license holders.
In talking with friends who were active law enforcement officers, they were unanimous in recommending a basic “Introduction to Defensive Pistol” course followed by regular practice and monthly participation in organized practical shooting scenarios. The Chapman Academy offered the highly desirable introduction course that I sorely needed. I quickly signed up for the three day program and headed for Columbia.
In my truck, I had two fine pistols that I would use for the course along with the minimum recommended 1,500 rounds of new factory ammo. Additionally, I took along that minimum required inventory, plus an extra 2,000 rounds of reloaded ammo, a third back up pistol, holsters for all, complete with several extra magazines, a cleaning kit, eye and ear protection, a bandanna to keep hot brass from entering my shirt at the neck, and knee and elbow pads as recommended by the faculty. Did I mention I really enjoy shooting? I should have.
Early on a beautiful Friday morning in May, I appeared at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri, ready to learn. There were eight of us in the class and we spent a few minutes in the classroom with John Skaggs as he went over the outline of the course and the rules of the range.
We would learn the basics of the course as developed by Ray Chapman; shoot effectively, move quickly, and utilize cover. From this, all other skills grow.
For safety, the range was designated as a ‘cold’ range. This means the firearm is always in the holster, always unloaded, and with the magazine well always empty and open. Loading took place only on the firing line, and only when directed by the range officer. Failure to follow this rule would be met with a percussion solo as performed upon the head of the violator by John, followed by an unceremonius dismissal without benefit of a refund. Safety is a serious business at the Chapman Academy.
We started with some basic dry firing as the proper grip was demonstrated and the techniques of two rounds center mass was discussed. Finally, we got to the point where John decided we were ready to start. This went well and we shot a couple of hundred rounds. Break time. We sat in the shade and cleaned our pistols while listening to a review of our individual strengths and weaknesses along with a description of the next drill; shooting on the move.
For this dynamic drill, we again start with the dry fire exercise. This scenario deals with two attackers who, when some distance away, look at one another, move apart and with weapons drawn, advance toward us. John demonstrates the “Groucho” walk, using a smooth, gliding walk, advancing toward the threats, and shooting as he goes! Most street criminals are accustomed to seeing their victims submit without resistance or running away.
We do neither. We not only are not running away, we are headed their way decisively and aggressively. Not only are we headed their way, we are shooting at them as we advance! This gives them two things to think about at the same time, creating too many moving parts for their small minds to process. They will either freeze and get shot or run away. If they try to shoot back at us they will have to hit a moving target and John explains that if a street criminal has no prior training, they won’t fare well.
Later John has us shooting at these threats while moving laterally left and right, while moving obliquely, and while backing away. This is the heart of the program; shoot, move, find cover.
Break time again. Clean those pistols. Modern semi automatic firearms work splendidly when kept clean and most of them like proper lubrication. To keep the gun running, keep it wet! If the gun stops running, it becomes a beautiful and attractive but relatively useless short club. Clean those pistols well, boys!
While we eat lunch, clean pistols and reload magazines, John describes the next exercise that will involve shooting from cover. Cover is described as something that will stop a bullet, like a concrete wall, a fire hydrant, or the engine compartment of a car.
Concealment is something that may hide us, but will not stop a bullet; a sheetrock wall, a thin door, an overturned table. Like learning to swim, it is better to learn now rather than jumping off into the deep end. It is good to be ready.
We are now prepared to shoot from the right side of cover, from the left side of cover, and various other positions. For example we could use a large tree even if we were some distance away from it. As long as we keep it between us and the threat, it can be used as cover.
Remember our objectives, shoot effectively, (hit the target) move quickly, (to cover or to the threat) use cover. (a tree, a concrete wall). This is priceless information that may save our lives one day. The CCW class makes it legal for us to carry concealed weapons, the Chapman Academy prepares us to defeat armed attackers and survive the encounter.
We spend the rest of the day repeating the drills we learned today. At 1630, John dismisses the class and warns us that not all bad guys are untrained. Some may have military experience and will be at least as competent as we are, maybe more. Do not assume they are without gun handling skills. Our objective is to avoid getting hurt or killed. And with that, everyone heads for the exit ready for hot showers and a good meal. But, not me…
I run headlong for the steel plate target range for a little more play time. I saw this range earlier in the day and just can’t resist a few shots at these reactive targets. These plates are in four groups of six plates each, and will go down with a clang and a satisfying thump. I shoot for just a few minutes…or so I thought. When I look at my watch I am astonished to see it’s almost 1900! (For those who live in Topeka, Kansas, this means 7:00 o'clock in the evening.)
I do a quick inventory of my remaining ammo to make sure I have enough to finish the course tomorrow and Sunday. Fortunately I brought along an extra 2000 rounds of reloads so I can shoot a little more. But the recoil, the muzzle blast, and the pounding are finally getting to me. One can only have so much fun.
Back at the Red Roof Inn, I enjoy a long hot shower, call home, make a couple of sandwiches, drink some Gator Aid and clean the pistols once more and reload the magazines. It has been a good day.
Saturday morning at McDonalds, two Egg Macs, a thermos of coffee, and I'm ready to head for the range. Was I the first shooter there? Yep, but not the first visitor. The range cat, named Sh*t Head greeted me with a smile. This cat appeared at the range as a dumped kitten a couple of years back. John and the guys took him in, provided regular meals and a warm place to sleep.
The ungrateful little wretch repaid this kindness by chewing up expensive leather goods left out in the open. As he grew older, he scratched up chair legs, sofa arms, and marked out his territory leaving his pungent scent everywhere. He was a mean little dude till one day John scooped him up and presented him to the local vet for a little well deserved and long overdue personal surgery. He came back to the range without cajones and was truly a...changed cat. Still a good mouser, though, but the girls held no fascination for him now.
I drank my coffee while waiting for the others to arrive. Today would be a scorcher with temperatures in the 90’s. John reviewed some observations from yesterday and we started the day with a repeat of Friday's drills. John made corrections here and there and generally seemed satisfied that we were progressing, but by the meal break we were all ready for something new. John did not disappoint.
The new drill would have us shooing at close range, from behind cover, and at a moving target. Sounds like fun.
John demonstrates the drill. A panhandler approaches at two yards, begging for money. When rebuffed, he pulls a knife and threatens us. For the first time, we hear the phrase “the need for speed, the need for precision.” This situation calls for speed. At the signal, John draws his pistol, holding it tight against his ribs, gets off two fast shots while moving backward and laterally. There is no time to draw, extend the arms, get the two handed grip, aim and shoot. It is logical and correct to assume that if the pistol is at the level of John’s ribs, it will therefore be at the level of the threat's ribs as well.
For a threat under four yards away, the procedure changes to where the position of the pistol is held in a partly extended shooting hand much as if you were going to shake hands with someone. To give yourself a little more time, you can move backward while you are drawing. For stability, your left arm is placed diagonally across your chest to form a supported shooting platform.
At all times the draw calls for the weak hand to move in close to your own chest and out of the line of fire from the muzzle of your own pistol. As Clint Smith of Thunder Ranch says, it does not help to set yourself on fire.
Next step is to engage the target at fifteen yards. There is still a need for speed but precision is more applicable here. Run to cover and engage the threat at fifteen yards. Then it’s on to the moving target that is twenty five yards away. That’s it. Oh, by the way, this must all be done in six seconds.
When we started this drill we all finished in less than six seconds which surprised all of us except John. The fact that we missed so many of the longer shots surprised all of us except John.
The rest of the day was spent working on this drill with one addition. Following our last two shots at the moving target, we reload and move to a long stairway leading up to a wall. We move up the stairs slowly one at a time using the wall for cover and engage the threats found in the courtyard.
Black steel discs are planted at thirty, twenty five, twenty, fifteen, ten, and five yards. The assignment is to take them out without hitting the white steel discs which are innocent bystanders or in some cases hostages. Remember “the need for speed, the need for precision”.
We conclude the day with this scenario. Tomorrow…is qualification day.
Sunday morning dawned, bright, clear, another beautiful spring day. Did I mention we have had perfect weather for this class? I should have.
We are all assembled at the range where we started on Friday. John goes over the course of fire and we learn that we must have a minimum of 170 points to qualify for a certificate. But we don't want just any old certificate, we want that Master's certificate!
The classifications are; Sharpshooter, Marksman, Expert, and Master but everybody wants the Master. For that we’ll need a minimum of 187 total points.
We start out with the stand up and shoot drill. John’s words echo in our little pink ears and we make sure our grip is tight, and our stance is right. Everybody comes through this phase without any problems. After yesterday, this seems very simple.
Next is the moving and shooting scenario. We all do the “Groucho” walk and nail these targets neatly as as we move forward. If memory serves me, I believe that John threw in an unexpected moving target near the end of this drill. He likes to see how we’ll react to surprises.
We take a short break again to clean pistols and reload magazines. John keeps his distance from us today as he wants to maintain absolute integrity; this is test time!
Now we are using cover as we shoot. This does not go as well as we expected because the ranges are a little longer than we rememberand we’re shooting from more difficult positions. Only two students earn enough points to still qualify for the Master certificate. The others could shoot a perfect score from here on and still be eliminated mathematically. Gettin’ tougher.
We remember the story John told about the police officer who was 6’4” and weighed around 245 pounds. He told John it was ridiculous to expect him to find adequate cover behind a fire hydrant. John told him any cover at all is better than no cover.
Some weeks later in real life, this same officer was involved in a shooting and took cover behind a fire hydrant! He told John there was more than enough room and even several of his buddies could have joined him behind that cover!
Heading into the final scenario, the Miami Massacre, I learn that I am up first. During the break, we also learned that one other student and I are the only two still in the hunt for the Master classification. More pressure!
John asks if I understand the course of fire and I nod yes. He then gives the order to load and make ready. I put a 17 round magazine in the Beretta 92 and rack the slide to load the chamber. Then I use the decocker lever to let the hammer down, holster the pistol, and nod that I am ready.
When the moving target starts, I draw and fire. But nothing happens! I had forgotten to return the decocker lever to the ready position! I correct this fast and race through the scenario. If I’m lucky, I can make up the lost time as I have been completing this drill in about 4 seconds. I ran to cover and took out the next target and got on the moving target as fast as I could. Could not tell if I got the mover with that second shot. It’s gonna be close.
Climbing the stairs and taking out the black steel targets without collecting a hostage or an innocent bystander went well requiring only one shot per each of the six threats.
I unload, show John the empty chamber and receive the order to holster the weapon and stand down That's it, I'm finished.
I have to now wait for the other seven shooters to finish the course. I use the time wisely and clean the pistol one last time. Lovingly, I reassemble it and wipe it down, placing it in the protective case. This didn’t take anywhere near long enough and I still have time to fret over my screw up.
Eventually every one finishes and we all trudge back to the class room where John and his staff tally up the scores. He tells me he knew I had forgotten to return the decocker lever to the ready position, but after all, this was a test. All coaching was ended at the start of the day.
He did say I made a great recovery and nearly got by with it anyway. The second shot hit the barricade just nano seconds after the target disappeared behind the wall. He said the shot was on line and would have scored the point, but…
How close was it? I needed 187 points to achieve Master. I accumulated 186.4 points. Even worse, the high score was only 191.4. If that last round had connected I would have achieved the Master classification and been high gun as well with 192 points. That was a costly mistake that I’ll grieve about for a long, long time.
John told me I will receive more benefit from that miss than I realize. He said I would never forget that again and it proved to him (and should prove to me) that I could recover from unexpected surprises. You know how John loves unexpected surprises.
But it still nags at me even today. Bill Jordan, the famous Texas Border Patrol legend wrote a book about not finishing first. He entitled the book, “No Second Place Winner.” Yep, that’s me; a second place non winner.
Bill Jordan’s gone now, along with Jeff Cooper and Ray Chapman. These splendid pioneers did much to bring competency to civilian shooters as well as military and law enforcement officers. Information about these fellows is abundant on the Internet. Google them up and see what interesting lives they led. You'll be glad you did. And check out the number of other shooting schools out there as well; Thunder Ranch in Oregon, Gunsite in Arizona, and Front Sight in Nevada.
John’s final speech told us we should be proud; we had come through a shooting program that put us on a level with that of a graduate police officer. We completed the same scenarios that are taught in the Police Academy curriculum across the nation, but he also cautioned that we were just now ready to learn something about shooting!
He urged us to practice what we had learned here and to participate in local events sponsored by the various national practical shooting sports organizations. Keep on shooting, he said.
There's much more to learn, he told us; situational awareness, weapons retention, low light shooting, shooting from prone and other awkward positions, carjacking prevention, room to room clearance in case a shopping mall is attacked by terrorists and you need to get your family out, and shooting from vehicles.
Remember to shoot effectively, move quickly, and use cover. Come back regularly for additional all the Advanced Defensive Pistol courses.
That was the last time I saw John Skaggs. I learned later that he had a stroke and has not yet returned to teaching. Then in February 2008, Ray Chapman died and the highly respected Chapman Academy of Practical Shooting closed its doors.
But we must continue; and here's a good way to do that.
Each May, the Bianchi Cup International Pistol Championship match lives on at the Green Valley Rifle and Pistol Club just north of Columbia, Missouri.
Go there and watch; you'll be glad you did!
PB
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