Apparently the end of the frickin' world has arrived. We have naked homeless guys eating people's faces, growling at cops, and shrugging off bullets, and also we have knife wielding psychos cutting out their intestines and throwing them at cops. Combine this with all the violent mobs and you have the makings of an apocalypse. And yes, I know violent crime is still on the downswing, but seriously, when was the last time you heard of a face eating guy? Crazy!
So be paranoid my fellow gunnies. Stay alert, and watch out for naked people who growl in public!
Showing posts with label Bizarre. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bizarre. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Interesting
KINGMAN, AZ - The Mohave County sheriff's office says a former gun magazine editor has been arrested in the death of one of his friends
[snip]
Sheriff's deputies found 39-year-old James Patrick O'Neill dead of a rifle shot to the chest.
They arrested 53-year-old Richard Erick Venola of Golden Valley on suspicion of second-degree murder.
Venola was also on Guns & Ammo TV and did the torture test stuff at the end. I didn't realize it had been two years already since he was a gun writer. Bizarre.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Here's a fun meme!
I see this meme at Excels at Nothing and I remember now that I didn't get around to the last one, so here it goes:
The most scared I've been on the road:
This is an easy but tough one. There's only one clear choice and it surprises me considering that it was low speed and uneventful compared to a past life I had with automobiles. In my youth a was a wee bit troubled and I took my frustrations out every night in sports cars at very high speeds, treating each nightly run like a video game where I had unlimited lives. In my first four years as a young driver I had wrecked so many cars that DMV would send threatening letters every couple of months telling me that I needed a dealer's license if I intended to buy another ride, and I rarely totaled one in the first few tries. Also in that time I had wallpapered two and a half walls of my bedroom floor to ceiling with various "moving" violations, and until I learned legal defenses I was a productive revenue generator for several counties.
More than once I've crawled out of the remnants of a car scattered an eighth of a mile down a dark highway, the wheels sheared off and the frame lying plumb on the pavement, blood on my face and laughing hysterically. All of my dogs may not have been barking, but I was having a good time just the same. During those times I could afford to play the odds because I was the only one playing the game. That all changed when I had kids. . . .
Just over two years ago I was driving home from my sister's house about five miles away from where I lived. I was in my XTerra with my at-the-time two children in the back. It had been raining hard for over a week and everything was soaked; it was early October if I recall and it was in the middle of the day not one mile from my doorstep. Coming up on a mild left-hand curve on a 45 mph road, an oncoming car "missed" the curve and was going to hit me head on. I didn't have or need any time to react as there was only one course of action: steer hard right and hit the ditch. I'm always consciously aware of an escape outlet for times like these, so it was really kind of casual. When I got scared was when I was past the ditch, drifting sideways in the soaked grass and mud trying not to hit the line of trees parallel to the ditch head-on; the branches were tearing down the right side of the truck and I could see in the mirror that my kids were leaning to the left, away from the doors. I'll never forget the sound. I was praying quietly that the glass would hold and that the body of the car wouldn't snag on one of the trees.
All went well and I got control of the car and got it stopped. My kids were screaming in terror and I did my best to calm them down. What floored me the most was when another car stopped to help, and for the first time in my life I couldn't even begin to form a sentence to talk to them. I have a feeling it was just a long clump of cuss words that I spoke. I was shaking, nauseous, pumped chock full of adrenaline, and scared as hell. This is from a guy who used to laugh at the "metallic thud" sound my car made when I hit something solid at speed.
As it turns out it was the oncoming driver's very first week on the road, and I have a suspicion that she was paying attention to her phone and not to curve ahead. She was really torn up about it and bawling her eyes out, but I told her that for her inaugural car accident, when nobody is bleeding and in pain that it's a good day. My brother and brother in law came and transferred my kids to their cars and took them home since there was no "collision" and no need for medical attention. The ditch I hit was substantial, and even with all the replacement parts the girl's insurance company bought for my XTerra it was never the same again, and has since died a slow death over the last two years.
I definitely think the contributing factor to me being scared and shaken up was the fear for my kids. I still don't get shook up at close calls when I'm by myself on the highway, but if you were wondering I drive like an old man these days. My reckless race car days are long gone.
The most scared I've been on the road:
This is an easy but tough one. There's only one clear choice and it surprises me considering that it was low speed and uneventful compared to a past life I had with automobiles. In my youth a was a wee bit troubled and I took my frustrations out every night in sports cars at very high speeds, treating each nightly run like a video game where I had unlimited lives. In my first four years as a young driver I had wrecked so many cars that DMV would send threatening letters every couple of months telling me that I needed a dealer's license if I intended to buy another ride, and I rarely totaled one in the first few tries. Also in that time I had wallpapered two and a half walls of my bedroom floor to ceiling with various "moving" violations, and until I learned legal defenses I was a productive revenue generator for several counties.
More than once I've crawled out of the remnants of a car scattered an eighth of a mile down a dark highway, the wheels sheared off and the frame lying plumb on the pavement, blood on my face and laughing hysterically. All of my dogs may not have been barking, but I was having a good time just the same. During those times I could afford to play the odds because I was the only one playing the game. That all changed when I had kids. . . .
Just over two years ago I was driving home from my sister's house about five miles away from where I lived. I was in my XTerra with my at-the-time two children in the back. It had been raining hard for over a week and everything was soaked; it was early October if I recall and it was in the middle of the day not one mile from my doorstep. Coming up on a mild left-hand curve on a 45 mph road, an oncoming car "missed" the curve and was going to hit me head on. I didn't have or need any time to react as there was only one course of action: steer hard right and hit the ditch. I'm always consciously aware of an escape outlet for times like these, so it was really kind of casual. When I got scared was when I was past the ditch, drifting sideways in the soaked grass and mud trying not to hit the line of trees parallel to the ditch head-on; the branches were tearing down the right side of the truck and I could see in the mirror that my kids were leaning to the left, away from the doors. I'll never forget the sound. I was praying quietly that the glass would hold and that the body of the car wouldn't snag on one of the trees.
All went well and I got control of the car and got it stopped. My kids were screaming in terror and I did my best to calm them down. What floored me the most was when another car stopped to help, and for the first time in my life I couldn't even begin to form a sentence to talk to them. I have a feeling it was just a long clump of cuss words that I spoke. I was shaking, nauseous, pumped chock full of adrenaline, and scared as hell. This is from a guy who used to laugh at the "metallic thud" sound my car made when I hit something solid at speed.
As it turns out it was the oncoming driver's very first week on the road, and I have a suspicion that she was paying attention to her phone and not to curve ahead. She was really torn up about it and bawling her eyes out, but I told her that for her inaugural car accident, when nobody is bleeding and in pain that it's a good day. My brother and brother in law came and transferred my kids to their cars and took them home since there was no "collision" and no need for medical attention. The ditch I hit was substantial, and even with all the replacement parts the girl's insurance company bought for my XTerra it was never the same again, and has since died a slow death over the last two years.
I definitely think the contributing factor to me being scared and shaken up was the fear for my kids. I still don't get shook up at close calls when I'm by myself on the highway, but if you were wondering I drive like an old man these days. My reckless race car days are long gone.
Friday, February 10, 2012
An unfortunate series of events
I found this story of a trial in the wake of a bizarre shooting in Atlanta off the ARFCOM GD. Whoa, dude!
Long story short is that a man who was just ambushed in a gunfight ended up shooting a responding cop who thought he was a bad guy. The comments in the article are against the man who is being charged, though I note that they are all cops. The main argument is that the guy charged - the one who shot the cop, named Thomas - is a scumbag because the cop was in uniform and he should have known that he was a cop, not a badguy.
While I don't support people who shoot cops, based on the information in the article I have give the benefit of the doubt to Thomas because it does sound to me like this was a case of "fog of war" mixed with unusual circumstances. Think of these key items:
- Thomas has no criminal history, and was in the process of conducting a lawful business transaction while legally carrying his sidearm for defense.
- He considered that he was in danger of a coordinated attack, and very shortly afterwords was ambushed by several men, one of whom had a firearm and engaged him in a gunfight.
- He was fleeing from armed scumbags when, moments later and while he was in the process of summoning law enforcement for help, a man appearing in a police uniform jumps out of a personal vehicle -- not a police cruiser(s) with flashing lights -- and points a gun at him.
- The man in a police uniform had visible tattoos covering his arms.
The tattoos aren't indicting on their own, sure, but ask yourself this: Would a reasonable man -- who was actively fleeing from a coordinated armed attack where he exchanged gunfire, and that he believed was still in process -- think that a man suddenly appearing, in a police uniform, before the police are even called, be in fact police? The cop was a really real law enforcement officer who happened to still be in uniform after his shift was over, and he was almost right on top of where the shooting was and heard the gunfire, but instead of being in a police cruiser with a partner and/or backup he was in a shiny Tahoe with tinted windows. What would you think? Have you not heard of scumbags impersonating police officers in order to rob and kill their rivals and victims? I have; and that's why, if I were a juror on this trial, I would see reasonable doubt.
What do you think?
Long story short is that a man who was just ambushed in a gunfight ended up shooting a responding cop who thought he was a bad guy. The comments in the article are against the man who is being charged, though I note that they are all cops. The main argument is that the guy charged - the one who shot the cop, named Thomas - is a scumbag because the cop was in uniform and he should have known that he was a cop, not a badguy.
While I don't support people who shoot cops, based on the information in the article I have give the benefit of the doubt to Thomas because it does sound to me like this was a case of "fog of war" mixed with unusual circumstances. Think of these key items:
- Thomas has no criminal history, and was in the process of conducting a lawful business transaction while legally carrying his sidearm for defense.
- He considered that he was in danger of a coordinated attack, and very shortly afterwords was ambushed by several men, one of whom had a firearm and engaged him in a gunfight.
- He was fleeing from armed scumbags when, moments later and while he was in the process of summoning law enforcement for help, a man appearing in a police uniform jumps out of a personal vehicle -- not a police cruiser(s) with flashing lights -- and points a gun at him.
- The man in a police uniform had visible tattoos covering his arms.
The tattoos aren't indicting on their own, sure, but ask yourself this: Would a reasonable man -- who was actively fleeing from a coordinated armed attack where he exchanged gunfire, and that he believed was still in process -- think that a man suddenly appearing, in a police uniform, before the police are even called, be in fact police? The cop was a really real law enforcement officer who happened to still be in uniform after his shift was over, and he was almost right on top of where the shooting was and heard the gunfire, but instead of being in a police cruiser with a partner and/or backup he was in a shiny Tahoe with tinted windows. What would you think? Have you not heard of scumbags impersonating police officers in order to rob and kill their rivals and victims? I have; and that's why, if I were a juror on this trial, I would see reasonable doubt.
What do you think?
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Dedicatedly medicated
Yesterday I stopped at a friend's house on the way home from work to drop something off, and while we were chatting in his front yard we were swarmed by mosquitoes. In January. While pondering whether this country is in some sort of judgement, one or several of them bit me, no doubt because bugs love my warm blood more than other folk's, and damned if I didn't have an allergic reaction to it. That's never happened before. Funny thing is that it wasn't long ago that there was a discussion at Tam's blog about people who are deathly allergic to everything, of which I am one of, but with a twist: I'm not allergic to any particular thing for any length of time (except cats), but literally moment by moment. As in, I can go from never having an allergic reaction to mosquitoes, to having a nasty fit over a bite, to not being allergic to them tomorrow. Same with food. I reacted once to an omelet that I made one morning, and the very next morning made another from the same box of eggs and I was good. The danger there is that there's nothing for me to avoid in order to not have an allergic reaction (except cats), so my allergist tells me I have to be constantly prepared for the worst.
I've talked about my condition before, which I call Ana, a term of endearment, and have had to make some life changes to cope. First, I must have a brace of epi-pens on my person at all times and that has some unique requirements, such as keeping them within their temperature range, having them located where some poor schmuck who finds me not breathing on the floor of Five Guys can find them, and also having some identifying doo-dad stipulating that the reason I'm blue in color and not breathing is not because I'm throwing a temper tantrum, but because I have bizarre allergies. I haven't met most of these requirements yet; I tuck one epi-pen in my sock in the morning, and keep the other in my jacket pocket. Keeping it against my skin violates the temperature requirements, and occasionally forgetting to tuck it into my sock because I was so sleepy in the morning I left it on the coffee table for my kids to find is not working. Also, nobody would know to search my sock to find the thing if they were to find me in a ditch somewhere. On top of that, I keep a ESEE fire starter filled with several medicines on my keychain, and also some Children's Benadryl in my jacket to get things started. When I went for my Benadryl yesterday, I found many of the capsules to be crushed and ruined, so I need to do something about that.
I have an idea -- now that I've made holster making a serious hobby -- to make an ankle holster to hold the epi-pens and fire starter; I'm thinking of using clear HOLSTEX so that they can be readily seen if my pants leg is lifted up. With some neoprene and soft backing, it would keep them sufficiently off my skin as to keep them below 86 degrees F, would ensure that I have two of them in the same place on me at all times, and would be less likely to be left on the coffee table when I get dressed in the morning. As for an identifying warning that I have an allergy, I haven't figured that out. I'm sure a tattoo artist could place an informative sign on my forehead, but my wife would probably not go out with me in public anymore if I went that route. Maybe a big red sign on a huge platinum chain a-la Flava-Flav would do the trick. I don't know, but I should come up with something fast lest I get into a situation unprepared. As it stands, I have a severe allergy attack about once every other month, so I better get it in gear.
I've talked about my condition before, which I call Ana, a term of endearment, and have had to make some life changes to cope. First, I must have a brace of epi-pens on my person at all times and that has some unique requirements, such as keeping them within their temperature range, having them located where some poor schmuck who finds me not breathing on the floor of Five Guys can find them, and also having some identifying doo-dad stipulating that the reason I'm blue in color and not breathing is not because I'm throwing a temper tantrum, but because I have bizarre allergies. I haven't met most of these requirements yet; I tuck one epi-pen in my sock in the morning, and keep the other in my jacket pocket. Keeping it against my skin violates the temperature requirements, and occasionally forgetting to tuck it into my sock because I was so sleepy in the morning I left it on the coffee table for my kids to find is not working. Also, nobody would know to search my sock to find the thing if they were to find me in a ditch somewhere. On top of that, I keep a ESEE fire starter filled with several medicines on my keychain, and also some Children's Benadryl in my jacket to get things started. When I went for my Benadryl yesterday, I found many of the capsules to be crushed and ruined, so I need to do something about that.
I have an idea -- now that I've made holster making a serious hobby -- to make an ankle holster to hold the epi-pens and fire starter; I'm thinking of using clear HOLSTEX so that they can be readily seen if my pants leg is lifted up. With some neoprene and soft backing, it would keep them sufficiently off my skin as to keep them below 86 degrees F, would ensure that I have two of them in the same place on me at all times, and would be less likely to be left on the coffee table when I get dressed in the morning. As for an identifying warning that I have an allergy, I haven't figured that out. I'm sure a tattoo artist could place an informative sign on my forehead, but my wife would probably not go out with me in public anymore if I went that route. Maybe a big red sign on a huge platinum chain a-la Flava-Flav would do the trick. I don't know, but I should come up with something fast lest I get into a situation unprepared. As it stands, I have a severe allergy attack about once every other month, so I better get it in gear.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
The worst kind of gun owners
If this story is even true, these two morons are the dumbest gun owners on the face of the planet.
Disregarding the extreme amount of gun ignorance (Mosin Nagant being a "Russian M4" and "machine gun"), there's no sense in leaving firearms hung on a nail in plain sight in a crime ridden part of Philly. Lying to drug dealers and detectives to try to fix a jacked up situation puts this story over the top.
Disregarding the extreme amount of gun ignorance (Mosin Nagant being a "Russian M4" and "machine gun"), there's no sense in leaving firearms hung on a nail in plain sight in a crime ridden part of Philly. Lying to drug dealers and detectives to try to fix a jacked up situation puts this story over the top.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
That's not the half of it
I'm amazed that there's such a response to the Fed Ex guy throwing a computer box over a fence. If that bothers anybody, their minds would be blown if they ever witnessed what goes on in the distribution centers.
Many moons ago I worked in a UPS distro center as a box kicker, and man, did I see some shit. The process of unpacking and packing boxes into trucks is nowhere near gentle, even if you are careful. You're talking thousands of packages an hour have to be shoved violently out of a truck onto rollers and conveyors, and then shoved violently back into another truck. This is done as fast as the human body will allow, and UPS doesn't issue you kid-gloves, nor do they issue common sense. I've seen heavy steel farm equipment loaded right on top of stacks of Gateway computers, boxes marked 'fragile' on every corner get stuck at the junction between conveyors and sheared clean in half, and boxes fall off conveyors into the dark abyss below, never to be seen again. It happens.
Now, some of the stuff that people see fit to send through the mail is nothing short of unbelievable. I never had live bees come through my center, like the USPS, but I do recall a live goldfish sent in a clear glass tank with plastic wrap rubber-banded around the top and a shipping sticker stuck to the side. That had to be some sort of sick test to see if it would get broke. We had a giant box of pink rubber dildos break open on a conveyor one morning; there had to have been 500 or more of them tumbling and fumbling all over the place, getting hung up on the belts, and nobody had any interest in grabbing ahold of them to put them back in, if you know what I mean. You never can tell what's in the faceless brown boxes until they bust open, spilling a thousand New Kids on the Block CDs or leopard print negligees all over the place. The worst was lip balm; break open a box of that and you would have a huge mess. By far the most destroyed item was Sylvania fluorescent light bulb tubes; those you could identify by their box, and, no lie, they were on every single truck. I would just shake my head at the stupidity of sending those through the mail - eight out of every ten boxes would be completely crushed, with white powdered glass leaking from the corners. I didn't know where the origin of the stupidity was -- from somebody who thought it was safe to mail them, or UPS continuing to accept them knowing they would have to compensate whomever for all the destroyed boxes.
If you think your mailman is rough with your stuff, you can't imagine what goes on where you can't see. Fed Ex box-kickers probably put luggage handlers to shame when it comes to putting their hands on your property, so I wouldn't get all worked up over the delivery guy. Believe me, you don't really want to know what Brown does for you.
Many moons ago I worked in a UPS distro center as a box kicker, and man, did I see some shit. The process of unpacking and packing boxes into trucks is nowhere near gentle, even if you are careful. You're talking thousands of packages an hour have to be shoved violently out of a truck onto rollers and conveyors, and then shoved violently back into another truck. This is done as fast as the human body will allow, and UPS doesn't issue you kid-gloves, nor do they issue common sense. I've seen heavy steel farm equipment loaded right on top of stacks of Gateway computers, boxes marked 'fragile' on every corner get stuck at the junction between conveyors and sheared clean in half, and boxes fall off conveyors into the dark abyss below, never to be seen again. It happens.
Now, some of the stuff that people see fit to send through the mail is nothing short of unbelievable. I never had live bees come through my center, like the USPS, but I do recall a live goldfish sent in a clear glass tank with plastic wrap rubber-banded around the top and a shipping sticker stuck to the side. That had to be some sort of sick test to see if it would get broke. We had a giant box of pink rubber dildos break open on a conveyor one morning; there had to have been 500 or more of them tumbling and fumbling all over the place, getting hung up on the belts, and nobody had any interest in grabbing ahold of them to put them back in, if you know what I mean. You never can tell what's in the faceless brown boxes until they bust open, spilling a thousand New Kids on the Block CDs or leopard print negligees all over the place. The worst was lip balm; break open a box of that and you would have a huge mess. By far the most destroyed item was Sylvania fluorescent light bulb tubes; those you could identify by their box, and, no lie, they were on every single truck. I would just shake my head at the stupidity of sending those through the mail - eight out of every ten boxes would be completely crushed, with white powdered glass leaking from the corners. I didn't know where the origin of the stupidity was -- from somebody who thought it was safe to mail them, or UPS continuing to accept them knowing they would have to compensate whomever for all the destroyed boxes.
If you think your mailman is rough with your stuff, you can't imagine what goes on where you can't see. Fed Ex box-kickers probably put luggage handlers to shame when it comes to putting their hands on your property, so I wouldn't get all worked up over the delivery guy. Believe me, you don't really want to know what Brown does for you.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Ride the lightning
An amazing story about a Marine pilot forced to eject over something more frightening than enemy lines.
Found at Ace of Spades.
Found at Ace of Spades.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Beauty is in the eyYOW! MY EYE!!
While it is very intricately made, and pretty neat considering the machining involved, the price of $800 made me snort and laugh at the same time. "Art" is the best word for it; I don't see any utility whatsoever here:
Oh Microtech. How far you've fallen. . .
Oh Microtech. How far you've fallen. . .
Friday, October 28, 2011
Horse-playing with your food
I concede that this story is a bit on the strange side, but folks have a right to play with their food any way they chose. The comments at the bottom of the story -- "I'd like to meat her." -- and the ones at ARFCOM -- "I want you inside me." -- are hilarious, though my sense of humor is probably faaaaar more twisted than the average Joe.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Arming up for the Exotic Animal Apocalypse
I hadn't paid any attention to the exotic animals running loose around Ohio until yesterday afternoon when I walked in the door. My wife, whom I love more than life itself, was watching the news and they were showing the 18 Bengal tigers and at least one African lion that were killed by various police units in the area, which got me thinking about whether or not this incident will spark new dialog in proper weaponry to deal with the next Exotic Animal Apocalypse.
Think about it. Gunnies the world over constantly prepare for the fictional zombie threat -- which really is just a humorous way of preparing for the end of the world -- and bicker and argue about what firearms would be the best tool to have to efficiently dispatch them; in the wake of this exotic animal roundup I can picture such arguments taking place at my local Ganderous Mountainous. Cops may just start keeping a 45-70 Marlin in the trunk next to their AR that they're probably never going to use, and I bet savy armchair warriors are going to start doing the same.
People generally pay a shit-ton for the chance to fly to another continent and hunt these animals. I wonder if the cops that shot them will have the option to keep what they killed; it would be a shame to incinerate them. I'm sure that the techniques and shot placement(s) were not up to Craig Boddington's standards, but there's little to be said about it considering that the police were properly armed for lighter and thinner skinned animals when they were asked to respond without preparation.
And while we're on the subject, good on them for their bravery. Think about being a cop accustomed to responding day after day to domestic violence calls, shoplifters, and a drunk who parked his car at speed into the first floor of a retirement home, and then getting the call to take down dozens of 400 lb lions and tigers armed with a pistol or 5.56mm rifle. Sounds terrifying to me. One cop even killed a black bear with one shot from his issued weapon. Good shooting!
Think about it. Gunnies the world over constantly prepare for the fictional zombie threat -- which really is just a humorous way of preparing for the end of the world -- and bicker and argue about what firearms would be the best tool to have to efficiently dispatch them; in the wake of this exotic animal roundup I can picture such arguments taking place at my local Ganderous Mountainous. Cops may just start keeping a 45-70 Marlin in the trunk next to their AR that they're probably never going to use, and I bet savy armchair warriors are going to start doing the same.
People generally pay a shit-ton for the chance to fly to another continent and hunt these animals. I wonder if the cops that shot them will have the option to keep what they killed; it would be a shame to incinerate them. I'm sure that the techniques and shot placement(s) were not up to Craig Boddington's standards, but there's little to be said about it considering that the police were properly armed for lighter and thinner skinned animals when they were asked to respond without preparation.
And while we're on the subject, good on them for their bravery. Think about being a cop accustomed to responding day after day to domestic violence calls, shoplifters, and a drunk who parked his car at speed into the first floor of a retirement home, and then getting the call to take down dozens of 400 lb lions and tigers armed with a pistol or 5.56mm rifle. Sounds terrifying to me. One cop even killed a black bear with one shot from his issued weapon. Good shooting!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Only you can prevent sawzall violence
EVERETT, Wash. (AP) — Police in Everett, Wash., say a woman is accused of cutting her sleeping husband's neck and shoulder with a power saw.The story doesn't mention it, but it's apparent that there was no background check conducted on the purchaser of the saw. Anyone can just walk into a Harbor Freight and buy a truckload of these reciprocating saws and slash their husbands. It's best for the children that we enact a law to restrict the purchase of power tools to licensed construction workers so we can avoid this senseless violence forever.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
. . .and that's just a little bit more than the law would allow
Good grief. There's so much fail in this short tragic story that I'm just shaking my head.
This part of the story was interesting:
My take on this is that the coroner meant blood filled his lung, or maybe the coroner imbibed a little too much moonshine, or even his sweat stained Realtree hat is on just a little too tight. We'll never know for sure. The hits just keep on coming, though:
Lastly, we have this comment that makes me weep for the people of this country:
As Bittinger approached the front porch of the home, the suspect fired an arrow into his chest. He was pronounced dead at the scene.The shootee had a "weapon;" the type is not made clear in the article. I'm under the assumption that if the shootee had a weapon and made threats, and/or became a deadly threat, then perhaps deadly force via bow and arrow was appropriate. Just because the shooter didn't use Paw Paw's shotgun hanging over the mantle doesn't mean that deadly force wasn't justified. The Dukes were quite fond of primitive tackle, and as we know they were just some good ol' boys, never meanin' no harm.
This part of the story was interesting:
The coroner says Bittinger died when the arrow punctured his lung and blood filled his heart.Blood filled his heart?!?! You can die from that? Oh, shit, I have blood in my heart right now! I'mma fixin to call me the rescue squad, right fast! Maaaama! Maaama heeeeelp!! Bloods done filled my heart!!!!
My take on this is that the coroner meant blood filled his lung, or maybe the coroner imbibed a little too much moonshine, or even his sweat stained Realtree hat is on just a little too tight. We'll never know for sure. The hits just keep on coming, though:
A compound bow has a system of pulleys that provide more force with less pull. It’s normally used for hunting.Or killing babies. You know, because anything that provides more force should be brought into the light for some much needed obfuscation, and then hopefully some legislating. Because this wasn't a killing with a "bow," but a "compound bow," meaning that we should ponder the shit out of what this actually means. It means the deadliness of the instrument is compounded, and commands less effort to wield, so logically we should point this out to the masses considering that a good 99.99% of professional journalists don't have a clue as to what to make of this. Being that the weapon is obviously compounded, it should only be allowed in the hands of law enforcement and professional hunters who have met the compounded training needed to handle all that compounded power that comes from a system of pulleys. Idiot.
Lastly, we have this comment that makes me weep for the people of this country:
Lynne LeLynne Le needs an intervention to get him/her off whatever substance he/she has been abusing. That person needs help, right quick now! Get Betty Sue and Jimmy John in a room with em' to talk some sayance in to em'!
I don’t believe Tony threatened the suspect,
the suspect murder him and blame him, he’s death he can’t defense him self.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Better keep your receipt
A serious discussion and decision of a guy to mail order a second wife -- no, not a replacement for his current wife; he will have two living and breathing wives living with him very soon. Something tells me that there's going to be mayhem in his world in the near future. I find the thread to be entertaining, but I don't agree with his decision.
Of course, that's easy for me to say considering I have an awesome wife with no equal!
Of course, that's easy for me to say considering I have an awesome wife with no equal!
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
You can't handle the truth!
The battle rages on about what in the hell is going on at Alexander Arms, and why the strangeness surrounding the 6.5 Grendel cartridge continues to go on with no questions answered. The non responses are coming straight from the top, so I don't understand why the clouding of the issue. Just answer the questions.
It's well known that there are licensing issues surrounding the Grendel name; barrel makers and tooling shops that make reamers have dropped, discontinued, and refused to chamber products in that cartridge, and only a handful of people seem to know why. Absent any real facts -- and not because the questions haven't been asked -- folks have muddied the water even further by speculation.
When I was shopping for a barrel for the MK12 Mod 0, I intended to chamber it in 6.5 Grendel, but couldn't get anyone to do it. I talked to Shilen, who won't chamber in that round; and from my research there aren't many gunsmiths who will touch it either. The only cut rifling barrel maker that held a license to make a barrel in that caliber ceased communications with me suddenly, and then announced days later that they were dropping their Grendel barrel lineup. There wasn't a concise answer as to why, and I wasn't happy to have wasted over a month for nothing. In the end, I picked a very similar cartridge that is made by Les Baer, and it took one phone call.
So what happened? Why is there such negativity from the firearms making community over a cartridge as special as the 6.5 Grendel? Why are there so many clones of the Grendel round that differ by only a fraction, or just enough to avoid a lawsuit? Why are there barrel makers who refuse to chamber in that round? It can't be coincidence, and dodging the questions folks have been sincerely asking or calling them "trolls" or deflecting to "ooooh, lookee, we're going to announce something special" adds up to a whole bunch of nothing. I mean, if my wife walked in the door and said "Honey, did you hit something with the car last night?" the answer that she would be expecting to get would certainly not be "Uuuuuhh, I've got something awesome to show you next week! It's going to be SUPER!!"
It's well known that there are licensing issues surrounding the Grendel name; barrel makers and tooling shops that make reamers have dropped, discontinued, and refused to chamber products in that cartridge, and only a handful of people seem to know why. Absent any real facts -- and not because the questions haven't been asked -- folks have muddied the water even further by speculation.
When I was shopping for a barrel for the MK12 Mod 0, I intended to chamber it in 6.5 Grendel, but couldn't get anyone to do it. I talked to Shilen, who won't chamber in that round; and from my research there aren't many gunsmiths who will touch it either. The only cut rifling barrel maker that held a license to make a barrel in that caliber ceased communications with me suddenly, and then announced days later that they were dropping their Grendel barrel lineup. There wasn't a concise answer as to why, and I wasn't happy to have wasted over a month for nothing. In the end, I picked a very similar cartridge that is made by Les Baer, and it took one phone call.
So what happened? Why is there such negativity from the firearms making community over a cartridge as special as the 6.5 Grendel? Why are there so many clones of the Grendel round that differ by only a fraction, or just enough to avoid a lawsuit? Why are there barrel makers who refuse to chamber in that round? It can't be coincidence, and dodging the questions folks have been sincerely asking or calling them "trolls" or deflecting to "ooooh, lookee, we're going to announce something special" adds up to a whole bunch of nothing. I mean, if my wife walked in the door and said "Honey, did you hit something with the car last night?" the answer that she would be expecting to get would certainly not be "Uuuuuhh, I've got something awesome to show you next week! It's going to be SUPER!!"
Thursday, September 15, 2011
So harlots may live
I find this story to be very odd, not because I begrudge the porn industry of preparedness from their stated fear of radioactive zombies, but because of all ideas to build a haven from worldly disaster they decided on building a bunker underground near one of the most active fault lines in the world. I think I would build a single-story hardened structure right on the surface, but then again I'm not an earthquake expert. I would also put the Sliding Gun Rack Compartments next to the Security Insertion Checkpoint. That's just me though.
To be fair to the porn industry, at least they are finally planning for the inevitable fact that they will miss the rapture. That's being prepared!
To be fair to the porn industry, at least they are finally planning for the inevitable fact that they will miss the rapture. That's being prepared!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Tell the Air Force to kill it with a tactical nuke
A video about a family's home that was taken over by bees. I'm going to have nightmares tonight. . .
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Creeeeeeeepy!! And where the hell is Ruckersville?
I'm reading this thread at ARFCOM about some mall ninja pervert who stalks dirtbike trails, and they link to this YouTube video where some 13 year olds in a race run his sick ass over in the middle of the woods because he's buried himself in leaves.
I honestly have no advice to give on this one. Unless you have your Little Johnny competing in races with a cut down Winchester 1887 strapped to the side of his bike, there's nothing you can really do to totally prepare your youngster to defend against all the sick shit that mankind can come up with. You can only cover so many scenarios.
***ETA: From the discussion at this forum, the guy has been seen all over the place during dirt bike races and such. He carries the ninja outfit with him into the woods in a backpack, and dons it before burrying himself in leaves or dirt. Whenever anyone confronts him, he doesn't speak and quickly walks off. Weird.
Here's the video:
I honestly have no advice to give on this one. Unless you have your Little Johnny competing in races with a cut down Winchester 1887 strapped to the side of his bike, there's nothing you can really do to totally prepare your youngster to defend against all the sick shit that mankind can come up with. You can only cover so many scenarios.
***ETA: From the discussion at this forum, the guy has been seen all over the place during dirt bike races and such. He carries the ninja outfit with him into the woods in a backpack, and dons it before burrying himself in leaves or dirt. Whenever anyone confronts him, he doesn't speak and quickly walks off. Weird.
Here's the video:
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