Other State Cal. DoJ searches home because owner complied with home build registration law

[RVTECH]

Spent a little time reading some of the threads on CalGuns.

Some very interesting posts and unique responses and positions on things from the members.

 

[Stomper]

Spent a little time reading some of the threads on CalGuns.

Some very interesting posts and unique responses and positions on things from the members.

Well...... DO tell!

 

[RVTECH]

Well...... DO tell!

Oh, nothing specific.

Just how the members respond to the issues they are facing and their perspectives on on certain things.

Many seem to be very 'matter of fact' and procedural about their gun ownership - not a lot of rebellious attitudes like on some forums - but I am basing this on just a 'random sampling' of threads and posts.

 

[gryghin]

Oh, nothing specific.

Just how the members respond to the issues they are facing and their perspectives on on certain things.

Many seem to be very 'matter of fact' and procedural about their gun ownership - not a lot of rebellious attitudes like on some forums - but I am basing this on just a 'random sampling' of threads and posts.

Sounds like years of indoctrination has worked on those "citizens" or rather government subjects.

 

[cheech9]

As a CA native I have to agree with you. It is sad. I grew up in the CA that Steinbeck wrote about. The last places like that in CA ceased to exist 30 or 40 years ago. They made "progress". Now the same thing is happening to my Oregon native wife. Everything she has known and loved about Oregon while growing up here is disappearing. Family ranches that have been in her family since 1870 are being sold off because of age, operating expenses, and environmental regulations. Time to move to Alaska. Montana and Idaho are already too far down that road.

Just to provide an example, in the old gold rush town of Columbia when I was a kid we could stop there for supplies while deer hunting. At 14 years old I could walk down the street open carrying my revolver. The little old ladies who ran the candy store there handed out free hand made samples and didn't bat an eye at hunting clothes, a knife or a pistol on your belt, or an unshaven face. The blacksmith shop was a going concern, and you could watch them make stuff. A nearby gold mine was in full operation. Some of the residents hunted bear on horseback with hounds.

Now Columbia is a state park. The little old ladies are long dead. There are no actual residents now. It's a state park selling Chinese crap out of 4 dozen gift shops. The blacksmith shop is fenced off and visitors can view the forge, anvil, and tools like in a museum. The gold mine is now a tourist attraction and you can pay to pan for colored gravel. Hunting anything by any means is barbaric and frowned upon.

Now that makes me even more sad. My grand children can only be told of what was when.

 

[User 1234]

That beaten-down mentality has spread in CA. I've seen posts on CalGuns where you have to read it twice. Questions along the line of "I found two spare rounds of 9mm in my range bag that my buddy used, should I take them to an FFL for a transfer to me?" That example is only slightly exaggerated.

 

[RVTECH]

Their rules are about as strict as I have ever seen for a forum however I was reading a post and it was mentioned by an Admin they are monitored by law enforcement including the California DOJ, local agencies, and the Feds, and have even been subpoenaed for records before in criminal investigations.

 

[ThunderMtnOrd]

At least no dogs were shot.

They sought, and executed, a search warrant using the man's attempted compliance as their "probable cause". A judge somewhere sign his name to it.

They found the 'firearm" they were looking for, stating that it was NOT contraband.

They then left asking the home owner if he had any questions about how they just raped his home.

Remember, they are proud of themselves.

 

[dobeman]

That beaten-down mentality has spread in CA. I've seen posts on CalGuns where you have to read it twice. Questions along the line of "I found two spare rounds of 9mm in my range bag that my buddy used, should I take them to an FFL for a transfer to me?" That example is only slightly exaggerated.

he let his buddy use his range bag ?!?!?!?!?!?! that is borderline felony and should be swiftly prosecuted to set an example. my gosh. first a range bag, next a range bag with an evil implement of death in it.. where does it stop.

 

[Knebel]

Wow thats quite insane. As crappy as it is but if they just wanted to inspect what he was gonna register, why not send 2 officers, knock on the door "we have to have a look before you get approved". Easy.

 

[Hueco]

This is a fake video. I've always heard that the cops will not comply with this unconstitutional BS.

These are just Ordinary Men.

 

[Howard1955]

Infringed.

 

[Knebel]

As a CA native I have to agree with you. It is sad. I grew up in the CA that Steinbeck wrote about. The last places like that in CA ceased to exist 30 or 40 years ago. They made "progress". Now the same thing is happening to my Oregon native wife. Everything she has known and loved about Oregon while growing up here is disappearing. Family ranches that have been in her family since 1870 are being sold off because of age, operating expenses, and environmental regulations. Time to move to Alaska. Montana and Idaho are already too far down that road.

Just to provide an example, in the old gold rush town of Columbia when I was a kid we could stop there for supplies while deer hunting. At 14 years old I could walk down the street open carrying my revolver. The little old ladies who ran the candy store there handed out free hand made samples and didn't bat an eye at hunting clothes, a knife or a pistol on your belt, or an unshaven face. The blacksmith shop was a going concern, and you could watch them make stuff. A nearby gold mine was in full operation. Some of the residents hunted bear on horseback with hounds.

Now Columbia is a state park. The little old ladies are long dead. There are no actual residents now. It's a state park selling Chinese crap out of 4 dozen gift shops. The blacksmith shop is fenced off and visitors can view the forge, anvil, and tools like in a museum. The gold mine is now a tourist attraction and you can pay to pan for colored gravel. Hunting anything by any means is barbaric and frowned upon.

That must have been pretty awesome. But may I ask when this was? I cant imagine you're 160 years old lol

 

[PiratePast40]

It's sad to see this sort of thing happening anywhere in our country. I fear this is only a part of "darker days" promised by FJB.

 

[ZigZagZeke]

That must have been pretty awesome. But may I ask when this was? I cant imagine you're 160 years old lol

This was about 1960, believe it or not. The Sierras and anywhere else at least 50 miles from the coast was rugged and real. People did what they wanted to do, and damn the gawkers. This is how I grew up. Hunting and fishing were what you did when you weren't working or going to school. The mountains were criss crossed with active logging roads, and woe be to you if you didn't give way to a loaded truck headed downhill. I rode hundreds of miles on those roads in the bed of a 1940's pickup with a gun rack in the window to go trout fishing where nobody else ever went, or to get to an area where dad knew there was a giant buck, so I could sit on a stump like a statue in the pre-dawn with my Marlin 336 for hours. We'd have to roll rocks and push downed trees out of the road in some places. The small towns served gold panners, cowboys, truckers, hunters, fishermen, and lumberjacks, and the saloons didn't serve white wine. Big Trees State Park was on a dirt road off of Hwy 4 near a town called Arnold, and another town named White Pines whose sole reason for existence was the sawmill there, complete with a mill pond. You had to hike a mile or so from the highway to see the giant redwoods.

But even then the easterners were flocking into San Francisco and Monterey and Napa, lured by the promise of adventure and beauty. But that adventure and beauty existed in the first place because they weren't there yet. I remember these outlanders buying property in places like Jackson, San Andreas, and Ione for $5000 per acre, while the locals just shook their heads and wondered why anybody would pay more than $25 per acre for dry grass, rocks, scrub oak, and 115 degree days in the summer. Today, the gold rush and Sierra towns are full of tourists and gift shops. The main industries are wineries and skiing. The giant redwoods have fences around them to keep the fools from carving their initials on them, and they charge admission.

I mourn for the sleepy, dusty, free, adventurous place where I grew up. I panned for gold and could cast a fly rod when I was 7 years old. I could also shoot the eye out of a squirrel at 25 yards. But nobody cares and nobody knows what California with 1/10th the population was like. Today the mountains are just a venue for mountain bikers, skiers, and rafters passing by as quickly as they can on their way to the next shallow, artificial "adventure". Bikers, skiers, and rafters don't care about the deer and bear, or the trout that watch their antics with amazed curiosity. They probably don't even see them.

All of that is gone forever. It's a time and place that no longer exists. Maybe it's a gift to have a limited life span, and not experience the loss of everything you loved about that life as the world changes over time, and people become more and more disconnected from reality.

 

[Knebel]

That is really really deep. As I am probably maybe half your age and a German native, I can still relate. We didn't have goldmines or guns in Germany but as 7 or 10 year olds you could still have a knife on your belt while playing with your snap cap pistols in the fields. There were lots of things nobody bat an eye about but now the police comes and gets you if you have a ...what they call it now.."firearm replica" and heaven forbid they catch you with anything larger than a swiss army knife.

I enjoy being in America, its not quite as regulated and wasted away like Europe is. Been here 7 years and do feel the changes already too. It really pisses me off too how many giftshops are everywhere and all the chinese crap. I don't buy any of this stuff as a souvenir when i see "made in china" on it. I always stop and watch the animals when I see them, I would love to see some bears.

 

[Nutknocka]

These are just Ordinary Men.

I see what you did there. The author of that book, Christopher Browning, used to teach in WA at PLU years ago.

Interestingly enough, the unit he profiled was a reserve police battalion. It wasn't just the SS running the Holocaust.

 

[uberguy]

Having read all the commentary, I feel it's appropriate to point out, none of the draconian gun-control laws in California (or elsewhere) ever put a dent in actual gun assaults or homicides. But that's the point isn't it?

The objective is to harass gun owners and discourage purchases, not prevent crime.

 

[Howard1955]

This was about 1960, believe it or not. The Sierras and anywhere else at least 50 miles from the coast was rugged and real. People did what they wanted to do, and damn the gawkers. This is how I grew up. Hunting and fishing were what you did when you weren't working or going to school. The mountains were criss crossed with active logging roads, and woe be to you if you didn't give way to a loaded truck headed downhill. I rode hundreds of miles on those roads in the bed of a 1940's pickup with a gun rack in the window to go trout fishing where nobody else ever went, or to get to an area where dad knew there was a giant buck, so I could sit on a stump like a statue in the pre-dawn with my Marlin 336 for hours. We'd have to roll rocks and push downed trees out of the road in some places. The small towns served gold panners, cowboys, truckers, hunters, fishermen, and lumberjacks, and the saloons didn't serve white wine. Big Trees State Park was on a dirt road off of Hwy 4 near a town called Arnold, and another town named White Pines whose sole reason for existence was the sawmill there, complete with a mill pond. You had to hike a mile or so from the highway to see the giant redwoods.

But even then the easterners were flocking into San Francisco and Monterey and Napa, lured by the promise of adventure and beauty. But that adventure and beauty existed in the first place because they weren't there yet. I remember these outlanders buying property in places like Jackson, San Andreas, and Ione for $5000 per acre, while the locals just shook their heads and wondered why anybody would pay more than $25 per acre for dry grass, rocks, scrub oak, and 115 degree days in the summer. Today, the gold rush and Sierra towns are full of tourists and gift shops. The main industries are wineries and skiing. The giant redwoods have fences around them to keep the fools from carving their initials on them, and they charge admission.

I mourn for the sleepy, dusty, free, adventurous place where I grew up. I panned for gold and could cast a fly rod when I was 7 years old. I could also shoot the eye out of a squirrel at 25 yards. But nobody cares and nobody knows what California with 1/10th the population was like. Today the mountains are just a venue for mountain bikers, skiers, and rafters passing by as quickly as they can on their way to the next shallow, artificial "adventure". Bikers, skiers, and rafters don't care about the deer and bear, or the trout that watch their antics with amazed curiosity. They probably don't even see them.

All of that is gone forever. It's a time and place that no longer exists. Maybe it's a gift to have a limited life span, and not experience the loss of everything you loved about that life as the world changes over time, and people become more and more disconnected from reality.

Sounds a lot like my boyhood in Southeast Texas. Nowadays, the Big Thicket is just a roped-off park. But it was a wild and free experience when I was a boy.

 

[ZigZagZeke]

Sounds a lot like my boyhood in Southeast Texas. Nowadays, the Big Thicket is just a roped-off park. But it was a wild and free experience when I was a boy.

As I get older I begin to realize that you have to have been there to understand a particular time and place. Hunter S. Thompson expressed the idea pretty well:

"Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era—the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run . . . but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant. . . .

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullbubblegum, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time—and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.

My central memory of that time seems to hang on one or five or maybe forty nights—or very early mornings—when I left the Fillmore half-crazy and, instead of going home, aimed the big 650 Lightning across the Bay Bridge at a hundred miles an hour wearing L. L. Bean shorts and a Butte sheepherder's jacket . . . booming through the Treasure Island tunnel at the lights of Oakland and Berkeley and Richmond, not quite sure which turn-off to take when I got to the other end (always stalling at the toll-gate, too twisted to find neutral while I fumbled for change) . . . but being absolutely certain that no matter which way I went I would come to a place where people were just as high and wild as I was: No doubt at all about that. . . .

There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .

And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."