Because of the constant need to one-up the competition and develop better-performing guns, I don’t think there’s ever a chance we’ll see real standards emerge in ammunition. As long as there’s a demand from consumers for bigger/faster/better, the gun industry will continue to say, “Standards? Standards!? We don’ need no steenkin’ standards!”
I used to fly a lot. I don’t now, largely because my business doesn’t require a lot of travel. But I spend a disproportionately large amount of time at the airport, for someone who doesn’t fly much. You see, I am a member of a species expanding exponentially across America: Abruptio Abbas (Latin: “Divorced Dad”). I find myself going through airport security with an escort pass on a regular basis, to pick up or drop off my 12-year-old daughter at the gate. Going through the gauntlet of airport “security” has been much on my mind lately, since I have a concealed handgun license. Now I’ve never come close to having a handgun pop-up in my luggage, mistakenly attempt to carry a pistol through an X-Ray machine, or any of the myriad of things the rich and famous do on a regular basis. Nope. As a card-carrying member of the Great Unwashed, it is my lot in life to be the guy they would arrest in order to use as an example to all the other poor schlubs. So I tend towards the overcautious side of things when it comes to the Transportation Safety Authority. Or so I thought. (more…)
On a daily basis, I carry a tactical flashlight (the ever-popular SureFire E2 Executive), a tactical knife (A Kershaw Blur, if you must know) and a pen sturdy enough to be used as a handheld tactical weapon, should I lose the other two. When I travel any great distance by car, I invariably travel armed, with my trusty 1911-M1A .45 semi-auto within arms’ reach. When I reach the parking garage, the fun begins. I secure the handgun to prevent theft. I remove the tactical knife and tactical flashlight and secure them as well. Then I remove my miniature Swiss Army knife (with it’s positively lethal 1.5″ blade!) and hide it, then head for the concourse.
Now you’d think with all that, the TSA would be satisfied that I’m no threat. But you’d be wrong.