… and frankly, I’m too pooped to post. In about thirty seconds, I’m going to sack out here in the passenger seat while a friend finishes driving me back home. In about 10 hours, I’ll be flying to Alaska to speak at their state EMS conference.

Blogorado AAR and pics tomorrow, hopefully.

… for the day someone peruses my photo album and sees this one:

“Damn, that’s a big buck, AD!” they’ll exclaim.

“Oh yeah, that one,” I’ll shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, he was pretty fair. Twenty-inch inside spread, about 300 pounds. Scored about 150 Boone and Crockett*.”

“Damn! Where’d ya bag him?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” I’ll muse. “That was Blogorado, 2009 or thereabouts, I reckon.”

“What didja bag him with?”

“Brought him down at a dead run, with a 318 Dakota,” I’ll say, without a hint of smugness, as if it were an everyday thing.

“318 Dakota? Is that anything like a .338 Lapua?”

“Sorta,” I’ll judge, “only a fair bit more powerful.”

“Wow! More powerful than a Lapua Magnum? What kinda ballistics does it have?”

“Varies quite a bit,” I’ll muse. “Depends upon the loading, but the best thing is, it’ll hold its velocity, like, forever*, dude. I took this one at 65, but get this, at 130, it hits, like, four friggin’ times as hard.“

“Sounds like a helluva wildcat cartridge!” they’ll say, impressed. “Lotsa knockdown power?”

“Yep,” I’ll nod sagely. “Hits like a fucking truck, dude.”

*If you set the cruise control.