03-06-2004, 05:14 AM
Bah humbug.
I for one, have used machine guns for other uses other then killing people or critters.
I make machine gun art. I draw crude pictures on planks of plywood with simi auto or full auto. It's a great means for gaining control and accuracy. It's artistic. I make smiley faces. Stick figures. I once drew a doggy. It's a great emotional release, relieving stress and tension, and, something my medical doctor encouraged me to keep doing. The fine amount of careful muscle control has a benificial effect on my health as well. It boosts my self esteem (God forbid I get a bigger head) because I am PROUD of what I can do. I can already draw crude outlines. I would like to make machine gun ice sculptures like I saw on PBS. Someday I might, but, for now, my technique and control still needs work. That weirdo made crude rough looking yet very beautiful ice sculptures using various machine guns. Large bore for breaking down ice blocks, and, small arms for detail work. Seeing him on tv was a life changing experience for me. He stood, guns blazing, in a cloud of blue smoke, with chips of ice flying off in every which direction. Such raw destructive power. I covet his abilities. I hope some day to try it. Chainsaw ice sculpture looks like a lot of fun too.
I collect weapons of all kinds. Spears and axes of my ancestors. Halbreds. Crossbows. Bows. Swords of all shapes and sizes. Daggers. Slings. Blowguns. Katars. Warfists. And guns. Lots of guns. And all of them are beautiful to me. Whether he meant to or not, man has made a beautiful legacy of artwork in his implements of impalement and destruction. Even in a machine gun. The details do not lie on the outside. Strip one down some time and examine every piece, every section, every spring and bolt. Man spent a lot of time making a thing of sheer mechanical beauty.
While I use many of the weapons I collect, I adore them much as a curator in a museum. They can be used to educate, inspire, defend, and as a simple symbol of ideals and beliefs. The gun has it's own mystique. A lot of popular art and many great novels are all about The Gun. Roland, the protagonist in the Dark Tower by Stephen King... Is it he that is famous and well loved or is it his guns? Did man make the guns, giving them life, making them breathe fire and become God, with the power to preserve or take life, or, did the guns make the man, giving him the means to face the world and make an impression the only way he knew how? The same could be asked for any real life historical figure that lived or died by his or her gun. I have learned the artform that is shooting from the hip from when I was but a small boy. I am older now. I don't see as well as I would like. But I can still blow the heads off of matches or nails at one hundred paces. I actually can't see the nails or the matches to well any more. If I squint and strain, I can occasionally make them out. Even with my good glasses on. How do I hit? Who knows? Who cares. Call it Gun Fu if you wish. The gun is one of the greater human achievements, and, all you need to do is sit down with any circus performer or trick shooter to prove it. There is a certain mind clearing zen in marksmanship. A clear focused state of mind where the world fades away and a greater human experience awaits, where some sort of power rides the bullet driving it home to it's target.
There is more to firearms then killing. There are more targets then flesh. While many people will never rise above the common uses of a typical practical firearm, there are those who seek more and will seek to find the mysteries of life in the spent shell casings of a thousand silver rounds. They will find inspiration. There is a focus point beyond the deafing roar and chatter of gunfire. There is control. Calm.
The pen or the sword? Neither. Give me a gun. Inspiration or blood letting, a gun is the perfect evolution of both.
I for one, have used machine guns for other uses other then killing people or critters.
I make machine gun art. I draw crude pictures on planks of plywood with simi auto or full auto. It's a great means for gaining control and accuracy. It's artistic. I make smiley faces. Stick figures. I once drew a doggy. It's a great emotional release, relieving stress and tension, and, something my medical doctor encouraged me to keep doing. The fine amount of careful muscle control has a benificial effect on my health as well. It boosts my self esteem (God forbid I get a bigger head) because I am PROUD of what I can do. I can already draw crude outlines. I would like to make machine gun ice sculptures like I saw on PBS. Someday I might, but, for now, my technique and control still needs work. That weirdo made crude rough looking yet very beautiful ice sculptures using various machine guns. Large bore for breaking down ice blocks, and, small arms for detail work. Seeing him on tv was a life changing experience for me. He stood, guns blazing, in a cloud of blue smoke, with chips of ice flying off in every which direction. Such raw destructive power. I covet his abilities. I hope some day to try it. Chainsaw ice sculpture looks like a lot of fun too.
I collect weapons of all kinds. Spears and axes of my ancestors. Halbreds. Crossbows. Bows. Swords of all shapes and sizes. Daggers. Slings. Blowguns. Katars. Warfists. And guns. Lots of guns. And all of them are beautiful to me. Whether he meant to or not, man has made a beautiful legacy of artwork in his implements of impalement and destruction. Even in a machine gun. The details do not lie on the outside. Strip one down some time and examine every piece, every section, every spring and bolt. Man spent a lot of time making a thing of sheer mechanical beauty.
While I use many of the weapons I collect, I adore them much as a curator in a museum. They can be used to educate, inspire, defend, and as a simple symbol of ideals and beliefs. The gun has it's own mystique. A lot of popular art and many great novels are all about The Gun. Roland, the protagonist in the Dark Tower by Stephen King... Is it he that is famous and well loved or is it his guns? Did man make the guns, giving them life, making them breathe fire and become God, with the power to preserve or take life, or, did the guns make the man, giving him the means to face the world and make an impression the only way he knew how? The same could be asked for any real life historical figure that lived or died by his or her gun. I have learned the artform that is shooting from the hip from when I was but a small boy. I am older now. I don't see as well as I would like. But I can still blow the heads off of matches or nails at one hundred paces. I actually can't see the nails or the matches to well any more. If I squint and strain, I can occasionally make them out. Even with my good glasses on. How do I hit? Who knows? Who cares. Call it Gun Fu if you wish. The gun is one of the greater human achievements, and, all you need to do is sit down with any circus performer or trick shooter to prove it. There is a certain mind clearing zen in marksmanship. A clear focused state of mind where the world fades away and a greater human experience awaits, where some sort of power rides the bullet driving it home to it's target.
There is more to firearms then killing. There are more targets then flesh. While many people will never rise above the common uses of a typical practical firearm, there are those who seek more and will seek to find the mysteries of life in the spent shell casings of a thousand silver rounds. They will find inspiration. There is a focus point beyond the deafing roar and chatter of gunfire. There is control. Calm.
The pen or the sword? Neither. Give me a gun. Inspiration or blood letting, a gun is the perfect evolution of both.
All alone, or in twos,
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad buggers wall.
"Isn't this where...."
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall.
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands.
The bleeding hearts and artists
Make their stand.
And when they've given you their all
Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy
Banging your heart against some mad buggers wall.
"Isn't this where...."