So I didn't have sweat pants, so I turned around and went to the range.
And I shot my M1 and admired other fine shooters and weapons. No one was killed, wounded, nor felt fear during the entire time I was there. Should have invited the clueless to watch, and maybe shoot a round on target.
Just forty rounds for me, finding my zero, synthetic 1907 sling marked from CMP.
The Blues are playing loudly in my home, pardon me, I am going to take some down time reflecting on how Mad Max Fury Road worked, and why there were so many males in that one tyranny. It doesn't work that way, really, and most of those shots couldn't have happened - ah, fantasy violence. Do you think a sip of whiskey would help?