Last November I favorably reviewed the Fobus E2 Evolution paddle holster. I liked the comfort, durability, and stability the RX18-based polymer holster had to offer. One downside to the holster was that it was the second least concealable rig I own, right after my Galco brand Yaqui slide. With the weather heating up, I wouldn’t be able to rely on a jacket or coat to further aid in concealment. It was time to revisit the world of inside the waistband holsters.
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You’ve probably heard about the city of San Francisco banning plastic bags. Coming from city that also banned handguns and military recruiters, San Fran apparently wanted to move the meter a little further into the “fucking crazy” range. What will they try next, incandescent light bulbs? Oh right, they already have a plan for that.

Just in case you live outside the queen nanny city of the nanny state, here are ten things you can do with plastic bags, the Gibberish way. Like firearms with detachable mags, stockpile plastic bags while you can — you never know when some jacknut is going to make them illegal.

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When I was sixteen or seventeen, it was a big deal when my father let me drive his truck. I was visiting him in Oklahoma and he sat in the passenger seat while we rumbled around in his big red Ford F-150. I had just come to the “big road” in town (two lanes each way), and a county police officer drove past me, coming the other way. I did the “Oklahoma wave:” left hand atop the steering wheel at the 12 o’clock position, lifting my first three fingers. The officer rolled by, without so much as a nod. I was at a loss. What was this guy’s problem? “You might want to wait until you’re a little older to do that,” my father said, “most folks your age only wave to cops with one finger.”

And so it came to pass that I did not wave to a law enforcement officer in traffic for almost sixteen years. Until today, that is.
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Our friend Stomper recalled an urban legend that Fritos make excellent fire fuel. After our regular bi-weekly gaming session, we decided to test the theory out. The contestants: a bag of regular Fritos versus a cotton ball dipped in petroleum jelly. I already knew how well my burn-o-balls worked, but it would be excellent if I could put a bag of Fritos in my emergency kit: a food source and a fire source in one crunchy package.
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Help me help a friend. An online buddy of mine is looking for the Micro Machines Titanium Series Pegasus, from the television series Battlestar Galactica. Apparently, the second-fiddle Battlestar has been hard to find ever since its release a month ago. You can find them on eBay for an insane markup ($20+ shipping for a $6 item). My online friend would rather not give the devil their due, so to speak.

If you happen to be at a Toys R Us, Target, Wal*Mart, or similar and can stroll by the toy aisle, please see if they have any Pegasus in stock. If so, please pick two up — one for my friend, and one for me. You know I’m good for it. A picture of the product packaging is after the jump.
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Our neighbor Sassy, a Westie, came over yesterday to play while we had dinner with her human mother. She’s an only child, and her mother doesn’t play with her very often. It shows. Sassy was a good little guest, but was very protective of her toys and did not do well when we tried to take a toy from her to play fetch. She would drop the squeaky cone when she was ready for us to throw it to her. She would also growl at Porter and Rosie when they came up to play with her, which is fine. I laughed when Porter was about two inches from her face, just trying to smell her. Sassy was growling and growling, and Porter wasn’t bright enough to get the hint. Like Father, like son.

On the flip, she was more than happy to play by herself away from us while we talked after dinner, while Porter and Rosie camped out on our feet. Sassy is sweet, but doesn’t behave like we like our dogs to behave. Different attitudes for different needs, I guess.

Pictures after the jump.
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Some of my readers ask me why Gibberish is devoid of ads, banners, buttons, or affiliate links. I write a fair number of product reviews, and as one of my friends pointed out I might make enough revenue from AdSense to buy coffee or pay for my hosting each month. I have also received emails from vendors asking me to put a link from Gibberish to their site, or to participate in their affiliate programs.

However, Gibberish has always been, and will be in the foreseeable future, free of revenue-generating programs. Here are my reasons.
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I belong to the USA smart automotive company “insiders’ club,” which was not much more than an email list. Until today. Today insiders were allowed to put down a $99, refundable deposit two weeks before the general public on a smart Pure (the base model), the Passion (loaded), or the Passion Cabriolet convertible. The email stated prices would start at $12,000, $14,000 and $17,000 respectively.

I put a deposit on a “triple black” Passion. I’m tired of convertibles for now, and the added retractable roof mechanism weighs an extra 60+ pounds and probably eats up precious cargo space. When the car only has like 61HP to begin with, sixty pounds is a lot of weight to shed.
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Lady Jaye and I bought our tickets to see Justin Timberlake and P!nk last November. We saw them perform last night, officially making this the longest purchase-to-event period for me ever. We had third row seats, which were just fantastic. Justin Timberlake put on a very energetic performance, but it must be a hard blow to the ego to be shown up by a 5′ 4″ fireball of a pixie.
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Well, like a hot girlfriend with fatal character flaws, I finally got rid of Inara yesterday. The 2006 Pontiac Solstice was a gem to look at, but even on her farewell tour to meet the buyer I was put-off by how loud, uncomfortable, and unpleasant it was to actually drive her. I was reminded of how stupid the steering wheel controls were — all the stuff you don’t really mess with, like the onboard computer readout and cruise control, are on the left, and the stuff you’d play with more often, such as stereo volume and channel/track navigation, are on the right. Putting common controls on the right hand side on an American market manual transmission car is just … stupid.

This will be the first time I am car-payment free since 1996, when I bought my Eagle Talon. My plan is to ride Cylon as much as I can, taking Monty when the weather is bad or I need to haul cargo or more than one person. Hopefully Monty will carry me another 50,000 miles or so before giving up the ghost. By then I’ll have my debt situation under control to take on another car payment. Right now I’m leaning heavily towards the smART car two seater. Muhaha.