Moral-Flexibility.Net

Firearms Registration has been a reality in Canada since just before I purchased my first firearm. In this, as so many things, timing is everything. My firearms ARE registered in compliance with Canadian Law, they are stored in compliance with the applicable regulations and I carry the documents I am required to produce on demand if and when a peace officer asks me.

It’s clear the regulations were written by someone who’s never been shooting, but what else is new.

For those unfamiliar with the regulations up here I am required to have, on my person, my firearms licence and registration certificates (pictured right are the “original” drivers licence sized versions, presently they are driver licence sized pieces of heavy paper stock) for any firearms I am transporting to any location (The registration certificates are to stay WITH the firearms when stored at my residence), for restricted weapons (such as any handgun, or “Evil” long guns such as my AR15 or VZ58) I am required to carry a copy of my Authorization to Transport Restricted/Prohibited Weapons (or ATT for short) in addition to the registration certificates.

This is fine and good on paper, but carrying all these documents (particularly as I don’t take ALL my firearms on a range trip) is bothersome, and drastically increases the odds of losing one or all of these documents if real life interupts a range trip. Real life is not a suitable excuse however, so like most Canadian shooters I’ve come up with a system to ensure that I’m in compliance with the law in the most convenient fashion.

Convenient is a subjective term. I keep the original copies of my ATT and registration certificates in my safe (along with other important documentation). I have copies of these in the gun safe and stuffed behind the foam in my hardcases (which I refer to as “hail mary” copies in case “real life” interupts) and finally I have my gun “purse” (pictured above) which resides in my range bag (except for periodic audits to make sure the paperwork is current).

The “purse” contains a copy of my ATT, laminated copies of my firearms registration certificates (the current registration certificates issued by the Canadian Firearms Center are paper, and generally respond as you’d expect to rain, snow and whatnot. Replacements are $25 a pop last I heard). The purse also contains my membership cards, ballistics tables and other range-ish accoutrements.

I’d experimented with a few different versions of the “gun purse” before, first using police notbooks covers to hold the documents, but in the end I ended up using a Canadian Forces Field Message Pad / Cover to organize the documents. It has sufficient space to hold all the documents I need, crib sheets for shooting, range combinations and notes I take while at the range.

This arrangement is far from perfect, and it requires a bit of paper shuffling each and every time I acquire a new boomstick, but as a process it prevents me from being caught short by “da man” (realistically I’ve been asked for these documents twice since I became a gun owner) during a hastily arranged range trip.

It was my birthday recently. Now officially well into my thirties my birthday has come to represent a time of year where I spend oodles of both money and time renewing things.

Yep, the end of October means renewing my membership in the Canadian Shooting Sports Association and my membership at my local range, it also means it’s time to renew my licence plates, and this year it was time to renew my OHIP (Provincial Health Coverage) card (requiring a new picture be taken this time around).

The gun stuff was done by mail, the licence plates were renewed through a stand-alone Service Ontario Kiosk which saved me the effort of attending a gummint office, but for the health card I had to actually attend that gummint office, stand in line for a while, present my ID and then a quick photo (great, for the next five years my health card will have a picture of me in uniform on it -sigh-).

Thankfully everything is now done. I’ve checked the expiry dates on my passport, firearms licence, health card, and drivers licence and the next time I have to attend a gummint office for anything is a few months into the new year for my Drivers Licence. After that one is taken care of I don’t have to renew any laminated cards for 3 years, which should be just enough time to forget what a PITA the whole process is.

From the “It worked in a movie I saw once..” files comes this. A vehicle is pulled over by local PD, occupants of vehicle appear to be partaking in some controlled substances, while the driver is out speaking with the constable one of the passengers decides to make a call that will cause the police to lose interest in a routine traffic stop allowing them to continue along unhindered by “da man”.

“..While the officers spoke with one suspect outside the vehicle, West Vancouver police received a 911 call with a male voice reporting a robbery in progress at a local bank…

…Police continued the drug investigation and seized more than 11 kilograms of marijuana from the vehicle, then arrested the suspects on charges of possession of a controlled substance.
Source: here

Good plan, flawed execution.

A hearty congratulations to Cousin Theodore and Brenda on the birth (at 11:20hrs, November 11th, 2007) of their second child, Patrick Arnold.

As of the call 3 minutes ago mother and child are doing well. It appears we’ll have to make a special trip into TO to see the newest addition to the clan.

[Edited to add the picture]

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

-by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae

Today is for remembering and recognizing the service and sacrifices made by the men and women of our armed forces in both peacetime and war. A reminder of those that stand ready to place themselves in harms way at the behest of the citizens of Canada, through our elected leaders.

Today is not about discussion as to the morality of the fight we’ve thrust them into, nor for recriminations or blame. Today we salute the soldier, the sailor and the airman who wear the Canadian flag, and those that have preceded them.

It is to them I say, as I have so often before, thank you, we remember.

So every day or so I load up Operation Flashpoint for a little zombie mayhem. More reading on the editor is required as the missions I’ve created are more than a little basic (also the Farmland Game logic provides only for the zombies attacking the player and/or players group, and not arbitrary NPCs scattered over the map – this means massive groups of zombies currently migrate across the map inexorably drawn only to my character).

Jilly leaps into action whenever she hears the moans of the zombies approaching by yelling “I hear zombies!”, and then demanding it is her turn to play the game. With this development I’ve modified most of the missions so that NPCs protect the player character to Jilly doesn’t immediately get overwhelmed (although by the time it becomes “my turn” again all my ammunition has been expended).

Here’s a snapshot of Jilly playing the game this morning, she can now differentiate between the zombies and the “good guys” or “my guys”, and friendly fire incidents are decreasing (important safety tip, don’t arm a 3 year old with grenades, even if the zombies are coming).

When I was a teenager I took part in my first (and last) relatively big stakes poker game. I successfully managed to lose around $800 (my final paycheque from a job I had just quit) over the course of the evening, not only that but I had borrowed $100 from a friend before finally shutting it down. I’d spent the entire evening chasing my losses, figuring I’d make it up on the next hand. I didn’t. What I did do was deliver flyers door to door for the next week earning that money back to pay my rent.

In retrospect it was an important lesson learned early, and one that colored my view on gambling from that point forward.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve gambled since. But that lesson taught me to play with only the money I could afford to lose. If I win I pocket my stake and count myself lucky. If I lose then I’ve spent a sum of money equal to a night out drinking or at the movies. No harm no foul. No more chasing my losses.

Reinforcing my early lesson I spent a few years working security in a casino (actually a couple of casinos, but who’s counting) and from the perspective of “people watching” they’ve always reminded me of strip clubs. Drab, depressing and reeking of desperation. People chasing a fantasy to the detriment of their real lives. It’s unfair to paint all gamblers with the same brush, but the ones that stick in my mind were those that were spending money they couldn’t afford to lose, and all the while clinging to the hope that the next hand would pull them up out of the losing column.

I’ve really no point here, it’s just that I watched Owing Mahowny last night and was reminded of my time at the casino.