Sporting Goods Stores

... and why they are the enemy.

So today, I went in search of more ammunition. I had to leave entirely too much of it in Utah.

At first, I was going to go by the local gun shop that has served as my family's armory since 1984. After all, they have a long history of not bullshitting us about what we need.

And then I find that they have gone out of business. Just like that.

Rest in Peace, Down Under Guns.

So, instead of a GUN store, you know, a place where everything I need is in plain sight and where the countermen are knowledgeable, I have to go to a sporting goods store.

And there in the back corner, buried behind a pile of kayaks, fishing poles, and pup tents, I find their firearms section.

It is a disorganized shambles. Worse, when I ask about a tactical sling for my SKS, I get a sea of blank looks from the clean-cut kids running the section.

Fuck.

But no matter! I need a new mess kit as well, surely...

But no.

"I dunno man, you might wanna check out an army surplus-"

"You drove that place out of business."

"Oh, right..."

Fuck this noise.