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    Gun reviewers are in somewhat the same situation as the new husband whose zaftig bride asks, “Honey, does this dress make me look fat?” Sometimes you can’t win for losing.

    Contrary to popular opinion, we don’t get free guns. We get to borrow them, fuss with them and then send them back. Some guns you’d really like to keep. Others get dropkicked into the UPS truck. You’d think a gunmaker might actually test-fire a review gun, but several times I’ve had to ask for a second sample to get one that actually worked. If your glass in life is half-full, you could say that the maker gets points for not cherry-picking the review guns. If your glass is half-empty, you might not be as kind.

    And then there is the problem of personal opinion—mine and yours. I’ll bet we both have little things that just drive us crazy about some guns. But I’d be surprised if they were always the same little things. For example, I simply loathe the Schnabel Schnout, the Hapsburg lip of forends. Other perfectly reasonable people who might even vote the same way I do find them attractive. Neither of us is wrong; it’s just that I’m not in a business where I’m supposed to keep my opinions to myself.

    Even things that you, I and most other sentient beings would agree on can cause trouble. Sometimes a major player produces a real dog, and I don’t mean a cute speckled pup. The heavily advertised clunker is too big a deal to ignore, so it gets some lethal ink. Truth may be an absolute defense in libel, but tell that to the enraged gunmaker’s flakmeister who calls your boss. That’s where my editors Ralph and Ed earn their pay catching the spears intended for me.

    I admit that sometimes I just get carried away. I love the technical aspects of shotguns. To me, “bifurcated lumps” are not a starlet’s assets. The difference between a conical/parallel choke and one that is merely conical makes my day. Most people with a real life couldn’t care less.

    So you see, this gun review stuff is not all peaches and cream. It’s really hard work. Now excuse me while I go and pack. Some gunmaker wants me to suffer through yet another bird hunt testing his gun. I should get a raise for all this grief, right?

    Boots off. Beer open.

Posted on Tuesday, April 8, 2008 in Permalink