Russell B wrote:MOA wrote:The famous Shoot Me First vest.
It should come with a CHL badge.
Embroidered on it.
![Jester :biggrinjester:](./images/smilies/biggrinjester.gif)
Greatness!!
No, it isn't. Listen again to what TAM says:
The Annoyed Man wrote:Predators are always scanning the sheep to pick out the sheepdogs from the flock anyway, and I'm convinced that they can do it regardless of your carry method. They notice the guy (or gal) who's also always scanning; who acts aware; the person who recognizes the predator from the crowd and stares back at him. That is part of his threat awareness. I submit that the predator will respond to his threat awareness regardless of what you're wearing/carrying because we send other signals by which we are recognizable to him, even when we are humble mind-my-own-business kind of people. It is body language, or whatever you want to call it, and it is noticeable to predators, as well as to LEOs and other CHLs. The methods by which we conceal our weapons are primarily intended to not alarm people who aren't really that aware to begin with.
I admit I don't use my vests a whole lot, but I have three 5.11s (one with a Thunder Ranch logo, not a CHL badge), three lightweight jobs bought from Sportsman's Guide that are very comfortable, and several western-style vests, both leather and cloth.
What was the recent, short-lived TV series with William Shatner in which he
always wore a photog-type vest?
I remember a few years ago in Victoria when I arrived back at my hotel after a long, umpteen-round day at a Farnam class. I pulled-in to the closest parking place available because I had handguns, long-guns, and about 200 pounds of ammo to unload.
I was in 5.11 pants, a 5.11 vest, was carrying a G35 OWB and a G27 in IWB appendix carry on the left side, plus a double mag holder on the left side and a single holder on the right. Oh, and I had a Seecamp .32 in a vest pocket with one spare mag in another.
I had been on the range for 10 hours. I had fired well over 600 rounds. I reeked of gunpowder and Hoppes.
Another car pulled in next to mine as I was unloading. Two seemingly nice couples of 30-somethings.
"How are they biting?"
"Sorry?"
"Looks like you've been fishing. How are they biting?"
"They pretty much ignored me today."
I smiled. They smiled.
I continued unloading handguns, long-guns, and about 200 pounds of ammo.
And nobody was the wiser.