My grapes have soured.
Today was supposed to be my mental health day, where I have the day to go out and do whatever it is that I want to do. For me, that means to get some shooting in; this time at 300 yards as that is the farthest I can safely shoot these days. Well, not any more.
First off, about a week ago some local thieving shits went through mine and my wife's cars. At first, I thought all they took was the change out of my console, but this morning I noticed my rangefinder was missing. Little scumbags.
Then, I went to a friend's property about thirty something miles away and found it occupied by a random elderly couple wading around in the creek doing who knows what, and a neighbor on a backhoe trying to make a ditch deep enough to prevent the local teenage scumbags in his AO from riding their 4-wheelers down his property and stealing his stuff. Can't shoot there with any notion of safety now.
I now have nowhere to hunt, nowhere to fish, and nowhere to shoot. I suppose I should now take up yoga and buy a Prius. Actually, I've gotten into weight training now, and I'm hearing that the douchebags in congress want to ban supplements. Time to write a letter.
The destruction is complete. Central Virginia is now a suburb of DC, and the commuters can have this place. I think I might go to Wal-Mart and buy a fistful of posted signs and post the hell out of my teeny little yard, and then sit on the front porch with my cell phone and call the cops every time some neighborhood kid walks through my yard. I trust no one these days.