Dan
No, I don't!
Anybody who develops a practical, accurate version of the centerfire .22 Long Rifle is, in my opinion, the Bull Goose Rifle Loony. (A reference, of course to ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, both the book and movie.
In the days of my youth I started with a Benjamin 312. Still have it and it still works. The evolution was gradual and then one day LBJ arranged for me to go to war and I was introduced to all manner of interesting gadgets, widgets and arms. It led to acquisitions later on that were quite enjoyable, and rather noisy. I prospered and after a time retired, comfortable with the state of affairs. Wife and I moved to a rural setting that was blissful....until the hogs showed up and started rooting up the yard.
I began to deal with it in my own way but soon the neighbors (mostly yankee immigrants) noticed and asked for my help. And then the state asked for my help and once again I was at war. On their lands they said I could only use .22 rimfire due to their concerns about disrupting the neighborhood. They didn't understand the neighborhood very well, but I didn't say anything. Hundreds of dead pigs and full bellies later, our great land installed a joker from Chicago in the oval office. At that point my drift into the world of loons was a sealed deal and it was clear there was no turning back. I accepted my burdens and responsibility like a man and moved on. It was then that the fellow from Africa/Hawaii/Indonesia began to have significant adverse impact on my life and the lives of countless millions of citizens across the land, and in the frenzy that followed, finding supplies for my pastimes became increasingly difficult.
So I started casting bullets and inventing cartridges, dabbled with black powder and became addicted. I discovered that contrary to conventional wisdom that a fella could in fact hit what he was aiming at with lead and Lord Black. Likewise, it came to my attention that just because a cartridge case said one thing on the headstamp did not mean it couldn't be something else. And if one attached a muffler to such inventions an entirely new dawn presented in Hog Town. Still, my many friends suffered. They could not find components, or in the case of rimfire guns, ammo. I became the local source for their vexing shortage of bullets. One of my associates was sufficiently enchanted that he began making his own BP. It was time to do something for America, something that would give back the blessings it had bestowed upon me. The .22 rf morphed into something immune to political travesty.
And there you have it. Brought to you by the Democrats, plain and simple. I'm crazy, but it's all their fault.
Aim Small,
Dan
Bull Goose Rifle Loony
Florida Chapter
