Category Archives: Personal/Opinion

Alfie

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Pembroke Welsh Corgi puppy

ALFIE

You know how they say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?  Pardon me but I beg to differ.  My son and his wife decided what was missing in their lives was a dog.  So they went and got one.  A Corgi puppy.  His name is Alfie.  He is unmercifully cute so you can’t help but love the little guy despite what a pain in the ass he can be.  I know because at times my wife and I are called upon to doggy sit and the little shit gets into everything, as most puppy’s do I suppose.  He is constantly sniffing and licking and inserting anything that is remotely possible into his mouth.  The stuff that ends up there absolutely begs the question how can that possibly be appealing in any way?   But make no mistake his perplexing sense of taste is more than made up for by his overwhelming cuteness.  And with him cute does not stop with heartwarming facial expressions and whimsical antics.  He seems to be pretty intelligent, and I believe will keep tracking that way as long as he stays clear of anything coated with lead paint.  Which brings me to my original point.

If you are as perceptive as Alfie you have gathered that this blog will be discussing something about teaching an old dog new tricks, because I happened to mention that right off the bat.  I’m  not here to fuck you over.  I am about to reveal a trick that I learned.  You might have thought since I am mentioning a dog here that Alfie was the one that learned a new trick.  But he’s a puppy for Christ sake.  He’s not old at all.  So that wouldn’t make sense.  So if you are reasonably intelligent you have surmised it was i, an old person, that learned a new trick.  I know some of you out there are all confused because I’m not a dog, or possibly you think I am a really, really smart one that can type.  To clear things up for you, this is just an old saying that has been around for a long time.  I’m not sure what’s up with the dog analogy.  I mean I bet there actually are some old dogs you could teach a new trick to.  I’m just repeating what I heard, so fuck off and don’t make such a big deal out of it.   Here is the trick if you are interested.

Ok, you have a dog, so naturally it’s going to take a shit on your lawn, and I am pretty sure that is THE trick you teach your dog before all others.  It is the primo trick, trick number one.  Well number one and number two go together.  They’re combined into trick number one.  You don’t want your dog to pee or poop in your house, I am pretty sure, at least not on your carpet or sofa.  So I assume your dog is well familiar and accomplished with trick number one and does his business outside.

So there it is, a messy turd on your lawn.  You could wait a few days and let it dry out and then take your 9 iron and chip it over the fence into your neighbors yard.  But then there’s the risk your dog or five year old twins will roll around in it and track the mess all over your house  before you take the time to go find your golf bag.  So really the best resolution is to get it off your lawn asap.  Most people do the thing where you take a plastic bag of some sort and try scooping the stinky stuff up with that.  But what happens is you likely make a bigger mess by smearing everything all over the place.  Now you should really go get your garden hose and wash that slippery brown spot off your green grass.

The solution is to get yourself a big box of surgical gloves.  Put one on and slip your fingers underneath the turd.  The trick is to get way down below that tootsie roll.  Create some space for your gloved fingers to glide under it, letting them comb the grass that supports the butt brownie.  Then you are in complete control.  You’ll be clutching the entire mass and have it confined within a protected environment and you can do whatever you want with that chocolate banana.  That’s what I just learned.  In fact I’m going to go out and pick me up some more surgical gloves today, and then call my stock broker and have him dump some money into Becton Dickinson.  I think my method is really going to catch on.

Now that I’ve figured this out,  best of all I don’t have to worry that little Alfie will tumble into one of his keister cakes and be all stinky while I hold him in my lap.  That’s what I’m doing right now.  He’s so damn cute.  You just can’t help but want to cuddle up with the little tyke.  Isn’t that right, Alfie?  You’re just so cute!  Yes you are.  Yes you are.  Yes, yOWW!!  The little fucker bit me! God damn it those tiny teeth are sharp.  Son of a bitch I’m bleeding all over my carpet.  I bet this is one of those new tricks my daughter-in-law taught Alfie.  She’s had it in for me ever since I made fun of her goofy looking shoes. God damn it I wonder if I need stitchers.

bloody wounds on hand and The stitches.

Turns out I needed stitches

Immigration

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I’ll tell you what.  This immigration thing needs some serious attention.  We just can’t have people like this walking around in all our cities and being so un-American.   All this stink up going on about shifty people slipping across our borders brings to mind something that happened to me a couple years back.   I drove to work one early fall morning with my lights on and realized when I tried to start my car to go home in the late afternoon, I had forgotten to turn them off.

We have two cars.  One of them will emit a ding-ding-ding sound if you shut the car off in this particular situation, as a considerate  reminder that you are a moron about to leave your car with the lights on.   Unfortunately that day I was driving our car that was not so equipped.   In my defense it was dark when I left home that morning, but the sun was up when I reached my destination, so my lights by then were not illuminating anything around me.  But still the circumstance is in itself surprising because the car I was driving was a Toyota.  I have always thought the Japanese are ever-intuitive and would have the foresight to anticipate the need for such a device, particularly in their cars they sell in the good ol’ USA.  As a group Americans kind of like to shift responsibly to others and a lot of times have others do our work for us.  And we are always in a big hurry.  I think you would have to agree the Japanese really fucked up there.

This happened back in the days when I considered a cell phone a cumbersome burden, and frankly those days are still going on.  My wife is always chewing my ass out for leaving my phone on my desk. To be honest with you, if I do happen to remember my cell phone nowadays, it’s only because the one I have now is photo capable and I want to be sure to have it on hand if I’m in a traffic accident so I can take a picture of all the damage you inflict on my car.  Believe me I am going to go panorama ballistic, so you better hope you’re not driving around with your mistress or alter boy.

I went back into the Target building I worked at that day, fussed through the Yellow Pages and finally contacted a  service station in the area that still did some field service work.  They told me it would be at least a half hour before they could get to me, and told me to put the hood up on my car so they could locate it when they finally did arrive in the parking lot.

Drunk man in car with a bottle alcohol

Me Passing Time While Waiting for a Service Truck

I sat in my car fidgeting and mentally making fun of every passer-by.  I have to tell you I did consider there might be a remote possibility that someone seeing my hood up would make an offer to jump start my car, but that presented a dilemma I have always wrestled with.  I do not want to owe anyone anything.  It’s just the way I operate.  But in a desperate situation, I have been known to accept an accommodation, and at that time I was willing to trample this particular rule of mine.  But I am a pragmatist and held little hope for any assistance from a typical American shopper.  People have things to do and must be on their way.  Who can blame them?   I do the same thing all the time.  If you happen to be in a parking lot with the hood of your car up, don’t count on me helping you out.  It’s not that I am calloused, it’s just that I am pretty sure you have similar feelings and I  don’t want you to feel an obligation is in order.  I hate making people uncomfortable.  And as it turned out I had no need to worry.  At least thirty people scurried by without so much as eye contact.

Well over a half hour of waiting, a beat up pickup truck passed in front of my car, stopped, then backed up.  A young hispanic man stepped out of the truck and approached my open widow.  I thought about rolling it up, but by the time I deliberated where to hide my wallet it was too late.  To my surprise he asked if I needed a jump.  Actually the asking part was not performed in a normal American way.  Because neither of us could communicate in our vernacular language, the conversation was conducted as a series of one word sentences accompanied by some awkward hand maneuvers.  Reluctantly I said “Si,” which happens to be about the extent of my Spanish.  Ever alert to the possibility of shenanigans, I discreetly slipped my wallet underneath my drivers seat and walked to the front of my car.

The young man retrieved jumper cables from the back of his truck, and we both connected them to the appropiate battery terminals of our vehicles.  Twenty seconds later my car was up and running.  Hoping this good Samaritan would not recognize my embarrassment, I quickly walked back to my car seat and retrieved my wallet.  When he saw me digging inside of the imitation leather, he adamantly kept saying “No, no.”  I kept trying to hand him a ten dollar bill but he would not take it.  I tried to tell him ten dollars was a bargain for me, because he had probably saved me a fifty dollar service call.  But he still refused and summed up his feelings about the situation by repeating over and over “Today you, tomorrow me,” an obvious karma type of reference that carried with it the inference that I would one day do the same for him or someone else.

To this day I am overcome with guilt when I recall that episode in my life.  That part I mentioned about not helping you if you need a jump someday- that is still my position.  What kind of piece of shit am I?  You’ll never convince me I’m a total asshole though, because as everyone knows there’s a good chance the only reason you have your hood up is to lure me to stop so you  can rob me at gun-point.  But still.  You see what happens when we let nice people into our country?  They make us feel like pond scum. They just don’t fit in with the rest of us.

Below are some photos of regular Americans and one irregular immigrant.  See if you can pick out the one that has no proof of citizenship.

Man with Rifle and Beer  Unknown Depositphotos_66178161_s-2015 Old angry woman threatening with a cane Grumpy Man Giving the Middle Finger

 

Old jew with book   Bandit Mexican revolver mustache gunman sombrero   Nikko_Jenkins_booking_photo 42 Fat angry man

 

If you’re like most Americans you zeroed right in on the man wearing the sombrero, but you are embarrassingly mistaken.  Look carefully- he’s holding pistols in both hands.  He couldn’t be more American.  Of course you have to rule out all the other guys with guns and a couple of these fellas are thankfully locked up in American prisons, but that doesn’t make them less American.  The guy in the tan shirt and the rabbi are my neighbors, and the woman is my aunt Agnes. I got this shot of her with my Gopro this Holloween.  I showed up at her door dressed as an Arab and she really came after me with that cane.   Yup, the troublemaker is the guy dressed up like Elvis.  That’s how those sneaky bastards slip into our country.  I bet you didn’t know that.  Now that you do, be a good American and report any Elvis sightings to the authorities.

 

 

 

Good Idea/Bad Idea

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http://www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2016/03/26/20000-sign-petition-allow-guns-republican-national-convention/82289342/  What do you think about this?  Is this a good idea or a bad one?  Of course it’s a bad idea.  Trump wing-nuts are all set to stage a riot, so a gun would come in handy for all those guys.  It would only follow classic gun logic that as a matter of self defense people in the anti-Trump camp won’t feel comfortable unless they are all toting a firearm as well and properly equipped to fire back.  Who can blame them?  This has all the makings of a modern day shoot-out at the OK Corral, only on a much grander scale.

Only thing is, it turns out this petition is something along the lines of a hoax. It was likely drafted by some unknown gun control proponent as a way to force Republican presidential candidates to put their money where their mouths are.  However, during the period of time that this “petition” was considered credible, none of them were willing to dip into their bankroll of personal principles and actually say they support such a crazy idea.  I wonder what kind of grade the NRA will be handing out to these hypocrites this semester.

Self preservation is a core basic instinct.  Though none of the Republican presidential hopefuls will admit it, they would be scared shitless to walk into a way overcrowded room full of jittery , gun-waving revelers.  That is inviting disaster at a convention during a normal political year, and this year is the complete polar opposite of normal.  The Republican Party has an atomic wedgie up their butt crack over a Trump candidacy, and if there is one thing the Republicans are good at it’s preventing stuff from happening.  I have a feeling they’ll make up some new rules at the convention that will guarantee the Trump scenario does not occur.  The shit will really hit the fan then my friends,

The Republican candidates would in no way be willing to go out on a limb and say open carry is a good idea at their convention because they understand full well how gunpowder could ignite into chaos in an overcharged political climate.  Just in case some of you don’t understand how reflexively reactive gun culture can be, I thought I would break it down it in scientific terms. Let’s just say for the fun of it this “petition” actually bore fruit.  Here is a brief physiological description of what people would have to be prepared for on the convention floor:

Any loud, startling sound is apt to trigger a sense of panic that will induce the brain to muster up and send a bunch of nervous electrons along the nerve chain directly to the asshole, where they will attempt to paralyze the anal sphincter of Trump and anti-Trump supporters alike.  That is job number one for our electron armies.  Their initial task is to clamp all those muscles down tight so there is no shitting of the pants.  Sometimes they are able to take care of business, sometimes not so much.  It’s stinky down there, so often times they can only take so much and then  they high-tail it to our fingers in order to get as far away as possible.   It’s all part of our natural flight/fight reflex.  Look it up if you don’t believe me.  So if there are a bunch of acutely anxious people at the Republican convention, expect some index fingers to get over-stimulated.  And should  a bunch of people have a bunch of guns, what’s your guess all those index fingers will want to do?  Remember, we’re talking electrons here.  Electrical shit has a natural affinity for anything metal.  And keep in mind electrons aren’t just taking an evening stroll along the beach.  They move really fast.- like Usain Bolt fast if Usain Bolt was allowed to compete in the 100 meter dash by driving a Helios II spacecraft that has been given an extra shove by a supernova blast.  So now that you have been reintroduced to  human neurology and understand how fast things can go wrong, I think you have to agree this is a bad idea, unless you don’t particularly care for Republicans.

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ABOVE:  Image of an electron nucleus at rest multiplied by 10 to the eight hundred forty six quad trillionth power.

Read this.  http://www.rollingstone.com/music/live-reviews/rolling-stones-thrill-huge-crowd-at-historic-havana-show-20160326   This leads up to my good idea of the week.   A half million people attended this concert.  Holy shit!  You know what I think?  If we could somehow get the Stones to sneak into Syria and start playing, it would lead to peace in the entire region.  Such a simple solution at little cost.  Give the people what they want for a change.   Just look at Cuba.  Those poor people were starved for Mick and Keith.  “You  can’t always get what you want ” should become the world’s anthem.  If you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.  Stones for World Peace!

Cleveland Consternation

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If you’re like me you just can’t pull yourself away from the Republican presidential debates and the ongoing circus of events surrounding them.   It’s like dealing with a nasty hangnail.  Maybe if you tear that last piece of loose flesh away things will be smoothed over so it will finally heal properly.  It hurts like hell, but you do it anyway, somehow thinking you are doing your finger a favor.  I keep watching these debates and rallies, even though doing so absolutely tortures the part of my brain that assimilates logic, desperately trying to understand how Donald Trump can maintain his attraction to so many people.  During the first March debate I thought for sure his lack of substance and knowledge about basic political and economic facts would finally be exposed.  And by Fox news no less.  “The Donald” tells a fib every 5 minutes.  One of his whoppers is that he claims he can save 300 billion dollars annually on Medicare drug purchases.  Chis Wallace not only verbally pointed out Medicare drug expenses totaled only 78 billion a year, but he had the figures displayed on the  huge auditorium projection screen for every viewer in the country to see.  To my knowledge, powerpoint has never been utilized in such a humiliating manner in these debates.

As usual Mr. Trump danced around the blatant disregard of facts, and once again his amazing wizardry with information distortion seems to have done little to harm his endearment with the masses.  It’s fucking unbelievable.  The facts are right in front of people, in the facility and on TV sets in huge block numbers and still a vast segment of the population chooses to ignore how uninformed this presidential candidate is.  I am starting to get why the evangelical right considers Donald Trump to be a favorite though.  Potentially being able to change thin air into barrels of cash has got to seem more impressive than that trick Jesus did with water and wine.

These debates are a stark reminder that it is impossible to logically change an opinion when that opinion was not logically arrived at in the first place.  People believe what they want to believe.  And apparently many people believe discussing the size of your dick on national television is perfectly presidential.  The Republican party is imploding and it has no one to blame but itself.   I have to say I find it hugely entertaining, yet depressively alarming.

nazi-propaganda-15                      Cc0OuLyW8AAZvf2

I think everyone understands most of us are disillusioned with establishment politics in this country.  However I am ever confident people will come to their senses and start rejecting the radical political opportunism that is going on in the Republican party right now.  Having said that, morbid curiosity gnaws at me in anticipation of what will happen if there is a brokered convention and Mr. Trump is denied the nomination in spite of having the majority of delegates.  The major operatives of the Republican party are having such a shit attack they are even suggesting their members flush a basic tenet of democracy down the toilet and vote for who the establishment wants rather than who that voter prefers.  They are promoting exactly what people are fed up with- establishment politics.  Remember the turmoil during the 1968 Democratic National convention in Chicago?  Hundreds of protesters who felt politically disenfranchised were bruised and bloodied.  I have a feeling mid July in Cleveland will offer up some very similar drama.  That hangnail just will not go away.

 

28th Amendment

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Following is the transcript from this evening’s Breaking News story aired on our station.

——————————————————————————————————————————–
Good evening.  There is no reason you should know me, so before I go any further I guess I should introduce myself.  I am Billy Bimble, President Trump’s assistant press secretary.  As you are probably aware, President TrumLayer 1p was arrested this afternoon and is in a Mexico City jail, along with Press Secretary Hannibal, and the president has instructed me to speak to you tonight about his current predicament.  Before I get to that however, the president wants me to assure you that, although he is naturally upset with the Mexican government, he is perfectly safe and is confident the misunderstanding about his situation, as well as the wall under construction along the U.S.-Mexico border, will be all cleared up very shortly.  I spoke with him just an hour ago and he sounded like he was really pissed off, like usual, so that’s a good sign.

An hour really didn’t give me much time to get my thoughts together, but I will do my best to explain what is going on.  Remember, I am just an assistant, so you really shouldn’t expect much.  Actually I was just handed my title during this recent conversation with the president.  What I was before was the guy who carried around President Trump’s can of hair spray.  You might think that is the mother of all sweet jobs, but let me tell you the responsibilities are enormous.  You know how angry he gets.  In the last three years he has fired four people who couldn’t do the job right.  I bet you didn’t know that, did you?  I kind of psyched myself with the goal of hanging on and making it through this last year of his first term.  Now I’m hoping he gets a second one.  When I was handling the hair spray duties, I wasn’t so sure.  I got tired of getting yelled at.  But I have a feeling there will be a lot less pressure now that I am assistant press secretary.

So you are probably wondering how in the heck President Trump got himself into this fix in Mexico.  The details are still murky, but I am sure it had something to do with his anger issues.  He was already upset when he boarded Air Force One for his trip.  That’s the reason I’m still here and not in a jail in Mexico.  If you watched the news you might have noticed his hair flippity-flopping around while he was waving to the crowd right before he stepped into his plane.  He says I should have been prepared for that cross wind and given him a second coat before he climbed up the stairs.  Then he angrily snatched his hair spray out of my hand, said he’d just handle the job himself, and told me to go home.  I bet he’s damn glad that cross wind came up now.  At least he’s got me here to try and explain away all the troubles that are swirling around.

Some say he went a little too far when he challenged Speaker Ryan to that dual, but his approval rating skyrocketed when he fired Vice President Palin.  He did a standing back-flip when those poll numbers came out.  By now you all know how close President Trump was to shooting her.  And who can blame him?  It wasn’t so much the United Nations address she gave this summer, although that was pretty bad.  Even our U.S. translator couldn’t figure out what in the world she was saying.  Shutting the proceedings down for a day so people could go over their notes didn’t seem to help.  I guess Russia was pretty miffed.  Somehow those guys originally thought Vice President Palin called President Putin a “hole of and ass” for one thing, not to mention how upset the entire European Union was when a German diplomat misconstrued something she said to mean “Euro-trash.”  You have to hand it to all those interpreters in the building for sticking together and sorting things out.

But no it wasn’t that bewildering speech.  I tell you it was that which is known to all of us- that voice, the screeching sounds emitted like that of a wailing banshie, inflicting debilitating migraines upon the unprepared and causing dogs to howl and scatter in startled confusion.  It was after enduring one of Vice President Palin’s ten minute, ear drum shattering ramblings in the Oval Office that the president could stand it no longer and threatened her with his Glock 17.  I was in that room when it happened, and make no mistake it was I, Billy Bimble, who saved Vice President Palin’s life.  I take full responsibility.  I am truly sorry, but I was simply reacting instinctively.   Please, everyone!  Give me a break and stop tweeting all the hate messages.

Like I said, what exactly happened in Mexico is still unclear.  What is known, the stuff you know about from news reports, is the president went to Mexico on sort of a pacification mission, I think you would call it, about the wall he is building along our southern border.  And you are probably aware that Mexican President Cabarro got his underwear in a bunch over that thing.  Sixty feet high seemed like overkill to him I guess.  He said he would never agree to pay for a single strand of barbed wire, let alone a wall that blocks out the sun, and if President Trump wanted to do something about it he would just have to come down to Mexico because he sure as hell wasn’t going to go to Washington now that President Trump signed off on Amendment XXVIII.

I know everyone in our great country is well aware of this new constitutional amendment, but as I understand it this is being broadcast in Mexico, so I’ll go over it just in case there’s someone down there that has a TV set.  It was our insightful sitting president that sat around and finally did something about gun control.  Just so you know, our hispanic neighbors, Amendment XXVIII, specifically Section 1, mandates that every citizen of the United States of America carry a firearm of some sort at all times.  No doubt all our guns scare the crap out of you, our Mexican friends, which if you ask me is kind of ironic with all the bullet-riddled  bodies you have laying around in your country.   But you should understand it turned out to simply be the best way to clarify our pesky second amendment.  That stupid thing was so ambiguous.  I don’t know what in the heck our founding fathers were thinking there.  Man, would they be amazed if they could see the nice AK-101 I picked up for my little boy.  It knocks the little tyke right on his ass whenever he pulls the trigger.  Cute as the dickens.  I got that on-line at Fred’s Friendly-Fire Firearms Emporium.  Poor Fred was really taking some heat before section 3 of Amendment XXVIII made sure everyone knows on-line sales are just a sensible way to get guns into everyone’s hands.  And in my experience, Fred’s gun prices are hard to beat, unless you have a neighbor like I do.  Jack Vinivici- he just lives three houses down from me- he always has a garage sale of some sort going on.  Thank God section 4 of Amendment XXVIII came along to protect the rights of guys like Jack.  He likes to have special gun sales in the summer and early fall.  Then he can just lay everything out on tables in his driveway.  I was driving by his house last week and that’s when I picked up a sweet 9mm P99 pistol for my thirteen year old daughter.  She was a little upset I didn’t get her an assault weapon, but I just don’t think she should have a rifle slung over her shoulder.  I know a lot of the ladies like to accessorize with leather, but personally I think it looks a bit trampy.

Anyway, I guess what happened is, like you know, President Trump flew down to Mexico and while this wall conference was going on, apparently at some point he asked one of his secret servicemen to give the back of his head a quick shot of hair spray.  I know from experience touching up the back of the president’s head can be tricky.  If he feels any kind of moisture on his neck he can get pretty cranky.  And sure enough that’s what happened.  Evidently the president yelled out “You’re fired” and unfortunately a couple of President Cabarro’s body guards thought he said “Fire” and then all hell broke loose and after the gun smoke cleared both of President Trumps’s secret servicemen were in the hospital and the president and Press Secretary Hannibal were in a Mexico City jail.  That’s all I know so far.

Now I know all of you want to jump in your cars and head down to Mexico with your guns.  The president has asked me to tell you to stay calm.  He has also asked me to instruct the Secretary of Defense to amass the First and Second Armies along the border.  The president is running out of cell phone charge, so he asked me to pass this information along.  My cell phone battery is running low too, so If you wouldn’t mind Mr. Secretary, please inform the Joint Chiefs of Staff of this request.  The president is confident once the Mexican government sees the potential smack down they are about to get from our men in uniform, they will release him.  He’s pretty sure they’ll remember what happened back in 1846.  Of course if our boys do end up invading Mexico they might have some trouble getting over that wall.  I suppose if worse comes to worse they’ll just have to blast a hole in it.  Man I hope I’m not the one that has to explain that to President Trump.

So everyone, stay home!  We all know you have the guns to do the job, but let’s leave this one to the U.S. Army.  We don’t want things to get out of hand like they did last month.  You know how people blow everything out of proportion.  It’s ridiculous.  If I hear one more complainer say “Now our mass shootings are taking place at mass,” I swear I will shoot them myself.  Sure that gunfight that broke out in St. Patricks’s Cathedral gave our new amendment a black eye, but remember now it’s normal people like us doing the shooting, not all those crazy people.  Who knew the Irish take their Notre Dame football so seriously.

OK!  I think we are all on the same page.  Let’s calm down and holster up.  We have nothing to fear but fear itself- FDR.  And now that we all have our guns, what in the world are we afraid of?  Good night and God bless America.

 

Authors Note:  4 out of 5 people that liked this post also liked “Pre-Class Reunion” (May 2015) and “Female Final Four” (February 2015).  These people also consider the one guy that didn’t like these posts to be a big prick.  Also, 5 out of 5 of these people hated everything else on this site.  They can all just kiss my ass.

Snow Job

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I’ve always been hesitant to buy a snow blower.  For one thing I have a storage problem.  The available space in my single car garage is gradually becoming unavailable.  So I have a big debate with myself about spending money on one every winter.   What it’s come down to is a poker game between me and Mother Nature.  The way I figure it, I win the longer I can put off the expense.  The x factor of the equation is inches of snow per season.  As long as I’m not dealing with an avalanche of snow during the winter, I don’t mind shoveling a few times a year.  And if I decide to gamble the other way and finally purchase a snow blower, and that particular winter sets a five year record for snow fall, in my mind I will have cashed in on a double-downed bet.

My little game of chance has been going on for about eight years now.  That’s about how long I’ve been dealing with the osteoarthritis that has been invading various nooks and crannies of my skeletal structure.  That’s one of the reasons I don’t mind shoveling a few inches of snow, at least up to this point.  You need to get some movement going to keep your joints from freezing up.  No doubt I can stand the work out.  I sit around on my ass all day typing up shit like this.  Some days the only exercise I get is opening and closing the refrigerator door.  Real men don’t need snow blowers.  All my neighbors have one, but to me when they get all show-offie with their machines, if it’s not a validation of self coddling, it is at least a display of hubris.  I generally don’t go for that sort of thing.

Sure there’s the argument that having a snow blower around would save me time.  But right there is maybe the main reason I don’t need one.  Saving time might be important if I had important stuff to do, like go to work.  But I’m retired.  I have no place I have to be.   It’s THE perk of retirement, the life style advantage to which all others are measured. If it snows a foot, big deal. I have all day, all week, to shovel what I need to shovel. The city ordinance about getting the snow removed from a street-side sidewalk does not apply to me because I don’t have a street-side sidewalk. When my wife and I bought this house 43 years ago that was something we did not give the slightest thought to. Sometimes life just works out.

I don’t mind telling you I have been taking Mother Nature to the cleaners.  In the past seven years Omaha has had only one  winter weather event that has produced more than eight inches of snow.  Typically we get a couple of bouts of two to five inches, a few dustings, and that’s about it.  We used to get a lot more winter precipitation, if I remember right.  No doubt what’s happening lately has something to do with climate change.  But five days ago some very ominous weather reports started rolling in.  Three days later I received confirmation from every TV weatherman that the snow storm moving in from the west was going to be a doozie, a virtual white armageddon.  Driving around in my car, radio station KRAP informed me I was going to get at least a foot of snow dumped on my driveway.  I bounced from one of my pre-selected radio stations to another hoping that at least one of them would just keep playing the 60’s music that I had pre-selected them to play, so I could stop thinking about all the shoveling I might have to do.  But every disk jockey was saying the same thing.  Get to the grocery store and stock up.  You won’t be able leave your house for a week so it wouldn’t hurt to check and make sure you have enough of your prescription meds on hand.  .  Better pick up some bottled water because there’s a good chance your pipes will freeze once the power goes out.  Also you might want to drop by church real quick and say a little prayer that you don’t have a heart attack because there’s just no way an ambulance is going to be able to get to you.  Whatever you do don’t go outside and shovel.  You’ll have a heart attack.

So I decided it was time to cash in my chips.  I was certain Mother Nature wasn’t bluffing this time.  I went out and bought a Snow Buster 5000, smugly confident I had outfoxed my opponent once again with my purchase.  The full house of a storm she was about to throw down would be no match for my Snow Buster 5000 royal flush I was going to surprise her with.

There is one thing about my Snow Buster 5000 that is of an inconvenient nature.  It’s heavy.  I made the mistake of removing it from my SUV by myself and tore the flesh away from my shin bone and crushed the small toe on my left foot in the process. I’ll probably lose that nail.  But after filling my Snow Buster 5000 with gas I was confident I was ready for whatever Mother Nature was going to deposit on my driveway overnight.

The next morning what greeted me was not Mother Nature’s wrath, but rather a thumb-nosing mockery- an inch of snow.  Geezuz I can take care of that with my leaf blower, which besides my snow shovel is what I used because my fucking Snow Buster 5000 won’t start.  I could have easily made it through another season without the god damned thing.  You stupid bastard  weathermen can just stick your fancy doppler radar up your ass.  I know you think your incompetence can be easily glossed over by reminding us how lucky we were to have avoided your forecasts,  but I would like to point out your forecasts were the reason I took a personal bitch slapping from Mother Nature.  The least one of you could do is take this piece of shit Snow Blaster 5000 off my hands.

Snow Thrower Isolated on White Background                                       Layer 1@2x

Show Room Snow Blaster 5000                                      My Snow Blaster 5000

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time Passages

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I am pretty close to entering the seventh decade of my life.  I am retired too, and so I have a lot of time on my hands to reflect on lots of stuff.  You’re probably too young to have the deep thoughts I have and don’t give a shit about the existential conundrums of life.  So many things are perplexing to me.  Does God really exist?  If there is a God who is the creator of all things, is He sorry about Donald Trump?   Is there life after death?  Are there marshmallows in heaven?  I hope not.  I don’t like marshmallows.  How will I die, like am I going to suddenly drop over from a ruptured  aortic aneurysm with my life’s blood detouring any which way it pleases inside of me till I lose consciousness?   Or will I linger relentlessly in a hospital bed with cancer cells migrating from one organ to another till my insides are just a compressed mass of unrecognizable cell clutter that eventually leads to a grizzly implosion and merciful death?  I’m a registered organ donor, but what a waste that would be if all my organs are enveloped in a neoplastic goo.  That would ordinarily really piss me off, but I’ll  be dead so I guess I won’t worry about it.  So to anyone out there that might have benefitted from one of my fantastic organs if those nasty cancer cells had stayed away and bothered somebody else, just know I tried to help you out.  Now a large vessel stroke would really chap my ass.  A paralyzing stroke or any type of major central nervous system incapacitation  would be the worst.  You just sit around and get in everybody’s way for a really long time before you check out.   I’d probably have to have someone hanging out to feed me and change my diapers.  I hate being dependent on anybody, because anybody is always fucking up my life.

Take the douchenozzles that set my countertop and laid the tile during my kitchen remodel.  I suppose you could forgive them if they couldn’t spell the word “clearance,” but you would think they would have an understanding of its concept, like how far from the floor should the countertop be to fit a dishwasher underneath, or how many lateral inches should be allowed to accommodate the sink.  I made the mistake of counting on them to have a grasp of those basics.  And then there’s the guy who called himself a carpenter that framed out one side of my bathroom door a solid inch out of alignment with the other during my bathroom remodel.  In the long run it’s just better to do the job yourself.  That’s what I’ve learned.  But there isn’t enough time.  We all know that.  If I had the time maybe I would take an on-line course in dentistry.  Then instead  of having to go back to my dentist to have him replace that filling that he just installed in my last  upper right molar two days ago I could just take care of it myself.  Time.  Just not enough time.

So I’ve been watching time go by.  I’ve been watching time go by and taking a look at it to see how I am doing.  We all measure that differently.  Some people go to church a lot to help them figure it out.  Others go through their check book ledger and take a gander at expenses or all the charities they’ve contributed to, or legal fees they’ve had to pay.  Some check out their stock portfolio.  You know how I keep track of the passage of time?  I’ll show you.

IMG_2293 (1)      IMG_2276 (1)     IMG_2277 (1)    IMG_2278  IMG_2279   IMG_2280

1947- circa 2003       2003-2008         2008 -2012        2012-2015      2015-2016          2016—-?

These are my maintenance prescription meds that I take daily.   They are all lined up on my dresser, like soldiers standing at attention, and  I have watched with some alarm as new recruits seem to be mustered into their ranks within an increasingly compressed amount of time.  And that doesn’t take into account the shit that went down in October of 2012.  In medication bottle termsIMG_2281 (1), it looked like this:

Confusing, I know.  Here my bottles look like a bunch of drunken sailors, which is not far off the mark, because in October of 2012 I had total knee replacement surgery.  That involved taking a lot of narcotics and muscle relaxants and sedatives and for three or four days it was easier to just throw everything haphazardly into my night stand drawer and hope when the time arrived to ingest a dose of something,  my eyes could focus sharply enough to help my brain direct my hand to the proper something.   And if you’re thinking of breaking into my house because you would like to get your hands on all the left-over narcotics I never used, I hate to tell you you would be wasting your time.  You’ll have to go to the Omaha landfill to find them.  If you’re interested, they’re in a baggie with a quarter cup of coffee grounds, an ounce of water and a piece of moldy havarti.

If you look carefully at my prescription bottle time-line, you will notice a straggler falling out of formation in the picture at the right.  That one bothers me.  It’s my newest recruit and I am extremely hesitant to push it forward in rank with the others I insert in different ways inside my body.  It’s a statin, a cholesterol lowering medication that for the past two years I have managed to convince my primary care physician I don’t need.  I still believe my recent, uncooperative LDL levels are temporary.  In my mind It’s all simply the result of some over enthusiastic mouth banging of anything that ended up on my plate during our month-long holiday gormandizing orgy I call glutton-fest.  However, my attempt at a quick fix this January evidently was unsuccessful.  Oral cramming for a week prior to my physical exam on Kentucky blue-grass salad and boiled cabbage didn’t produce the lipid results my physician was looking for.  So according to him, it’s a statin or a potential heart attack or stroke.

I’m ok with a heart attack.  Maybe I’d go out quickly.  Hardly know what hit me.  But stroke?  No, no. no.  You know how I feel about that.  But damn it- the side effects of a statin.  I’m already achy enough.  And you’ve got your head up your ass if you think I’ll stop drinking scotch.  Then, once again, what does my doctor really know.  Maybe he’s just another anybody I should think twice about becoming dependent on.  I should probably take a stand.  As general and leader of my army of prescription bottles, maybe it is time to incite it to insurrection and revolt.  I’m running out of counter space.  On the other hand, my doctor and all his questionable statistics could be right.  If that’s the case I guess I would be better off doing as he says so I can put off running out of what I am beginning to appreciate more and more each day- time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beyond Oregon

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I don’t understand.  Some doofuses decided it was a good idea to execute an armed takeover of a bird sanctuary in Oregon?  Does that make any sense?  Does anyone know what is going on here, besides a bunch of good ol’ boy’s desire to show off their shiny new rifles they bought themselves for Christmas?  That just pisses me off, especially since the ringleader of this “militia” is a son of Cliven Bundy.  What a stupid shit he is.  What the heck is going on here.  I guess I’ll have to waste a good chunk of my valuable time and get to the bottom of this.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/morning-mix/wp/2016/01/04/the-mysterious-fires-that-led-to-the-bundy-clans-oregon-standoff/

*****************************************************************************

OK,  I’m back.  I studied up on this.  But in the meantime so much more has happened in the realm of gun control futility that I can’t control myself.  We’ve got this bird refuge thing going on,  the president was on TV explaining his executive order that will finally at least do something about our gun chaos, and we are greeted by the news that there are already over 500 gun related murders in the U.S. this year and we have only just entered week three.  I apologize to all who are thinking about continuing to read this.  I am overly passionate about this subject and I know this blog is way too long.  You will probably have to get yourself a snack half way through.  You surely have better things to do with your time.  That’s the point.  I don’t.  When I get incensed, I just keep typing.

There are so many things that are interwoven here that just piss me off.  Before anyone thinks I’m a liberal hell bent on taking away everyone’s guns, let me put that idea to rest.  I seriously don’t give a shit if you own a rifle if you use it for hunting.  No one cares. I used to hunt myself.  I will say I am not a big advocate of keeping a hand gun around the house, but if you feel more secure doing so, I am perfectly fine with it.  I am however not a fan of open or concealed carry.  I think we are just asking for trouble if we have the general population walking around carrying heat.  I worked as a retail pharmacist my entire working life.  If you knew how many people walked into my pharmacy on a daily basis that had “potentially unhinged” written on everything about them except their medical record, not to mention those stamped certifiably wacko, I would have to think you would also have second thoughts about passing out hand guns haphazardly. During the thirty years I worked as a pharmacist at my first place of employment, there were two armed robberies.  I had the distressing experience of having a pistol pointed directly at me during one of them.  In both situations, everyone involved was extremely grateful there was no one around to escalate the drama by pulling out a handgun of their own.   Both perpetrators were apprehended.  My only regret is that they were never given an appropriately long prison sentence for using a hand gun to commit a crime.

There have been several alarming road rage incidents ending in gun tragedy, and there is no doubt in my mind we are headed for an old fashioned wild west shoot out in some busy restaurant or night club one day if enough people subscribe to unbridled gun possession.  But laws in an overwhelming majority of our states have been passed allowing this, so like most I am stuck trying to remind myself to be fastidiously observant to suspicious looking characters as I walk down the street.  It’s the law- how all that happened I don’t know- but it is the law and so I shall learn to live with it.  And please, all you 2nd amendment paranoids out there.  No one is going to take your guns away from you.  Have you any idea how stupid that sounds.  How in the hell would any agency be able to confiscate three hundred million of anything?  That should not be any kind of worry, unless your intent is criminal or you happen to be crazy.

Happy hunter            42                Man with Rifle and Beer

No Problem                                       Might be a Problem                  Definitely a Problem

Which brings me to point number one that has so recently triggered my anger.  Crazy people should not have guns.  Even the NRA agrees with that. Or did. “Guns don’t kill- people do” is their mantra.  Unserved citizens with mental health issues is the definitive argument  the NRA always, underline always, defers to whenever a gun tragedy occurs in this country, or at least it has been in the past.  So what is the big issue the gun lobby objects to in President Obama’s just announced executive action?  A mental health provision.  Before the executive order, the gun  lobby’s position was always get guns out of the hands of the mentally disturbed.  Now, any medical reporting about the state of an elderly person’s mental health is an invasion of privacy.  Where in the world are we supposed to start?  If my doctor believes I am coming unhinged, I don’t care who he notifies, Social Security, state Health and Human Services, relatives, it doesn’t matter.   If I appear to be  a danger to myself or others, someone, somewhere should be following up and probably be taking my gun away from me, if I had one.  Which I don’t.   But under the circumstance I would not care if someone gets nosey.  There’s an appeals provision anyway.  Sure it’s probably a violation of earlier HIPAA rules, but for god’s sake we have to start somewhere.  What in the hell does the NRA want?  If I am a danger to society, society’s right to not get shot would, you would think,  take precedent over the precious right to bear arms.

And this Bundy business, come on!  Best case scenario concerning the Hammonds is they fucked up and let a fire get out of control.  Then the punishment probably does not fit the crime, but they can appeal.   Maybe prosecuting this case under counterterrorism law  was federal overreach, but the Bundy’s and their militia have once again defined overreach.  Over 33,000 gun deaths a year is certainly the 2nd amendment’s embarrassing failure to protect the public, but these clowns threatening the federal government with their macho display of gun worship is, contrary to what they believe, exactly what gives the 2nd amendment a black eye.  Sure, one of the reasons the 2nd amendment was drafted by our founding fathers was to provide regular citizens the recourse of armed insurrection in the event  government is deemed tyrannical by the majority. But this is another one of those outdated considerations of this amendment.https://www.quora.com/Second-Amendment/Would-gun-ownership-really-allow-people-to-fight-back-against-their-own-oppressive-government.  Nonetheless, people like the Bundy’s fall back on this interpretation to try and bully a path to their demands.  And I think if you research the demands of most of the morons participating in these types of armed insurrection, underneath it all you will find their demands are basically self serving attempts to avoid personal responsibility, like repaying loans, paying taxes and legally assessed fines and fees.  Cliven Bundy still has a million dollars worth of unpaid grazing fees.  God damn it that makes me mad.  These are the kind of dim wits that should be prosecuted under counterterrorism laws.

http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/news/meet-the-militia-the-zealots-cowboys-and-rogue-infidels-of-the-oregon-insurgency-20160107?utm_source=tumblr&utm_medium=referral&utm_campaign=meet%20oregon%20militia

The younger Bundy, Ammon, an Arizonian who is behind most of the Oregon stink-up, has no problem availing himself to a half million dollar loan from the federal government’s SBA program, and he and/or his family members have undoubtedly partaken in many handouts the government generously extends to ranchers in our country http://usuncut.com/news/5-government-handouts-bundys-receive/.  The Hammond’s don’t appear to know what in God’s name Ammon is doing all the way up in Oregon anyway.  Kind of looks like they’d rather go to jail than deal with a Bundy.  It seems one of the armed protester’s demands is an insistence that the government return all federal lands to their original, rightful owners.  The group is not sure who that is.  It could be this guy or that guy.  If they bothered to think that through, that would be the people below.

gn_01649b                                                     Geronimo, Native American leader of the Chiricahua Apache with rifle

This Guy (Oregon)                                  That Guy (Arizona/Nevada)

I seriously doubt that is the intention they have in mind.

All this supposed tyranny is going on by the government, when possibly the most tyrannical aspect of this armed takeover is suppression of the rights of us normal citizens not participating in this armed fiasco.  It might sound trivial, but I like watching birds.  Bundy, you’re fucking that up for the rest of us.  This bird sanctuary is actually a pretty important habitat for a number of migratory birds http://www.upworthy.com/these-photos-show-why-the-land-currently-occupied-by-armed-ranchers-is-protected?c=ufb1.  Ammon, for Pete sakes go home and mind your own business.  You need to apply yourself to paying off that half million dollar loan.

How about all the Republican presidential candidates and members of congress getting all bent out of shape over Obama’s executive order.  I would like to see how empty the halls of congress get if the decision was ever made to remove the metal detector from their building.  Remember, Ammon Bundy hates you.  If that did happen, maybe congress would invoke the Trump rule.  Stop all gun sales till we figure out what the hell is going on.

 

 

 

 

 

Guns Continued

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There is a lot of shit going on lately that pisses me off.  So much blog fodder.  You probably figured out what is coming here if you’ve been watching the news.  It’s  gun issues again.   I can’t help myself.  I just don’t get why sensible steps to control gun violence are met with so much resistance.  I really feel the sale of guns should have the same, local, state, and federal supervision that is required for drug sales.  Unrestricted internet and gun show sales should not be allowed.  Objection to common sense proposals just incense me.  So once again I wrote another blog that deals with guns, one that is way too long and is adorned with way too many links.  This isn’t it.  My lengthy one is so long I decided to break off a small segment and post it here.  I will finish up the other one and post it next week.  The subject I am posting here is so insulting I just have to get it off my chest now.

Fox news. Andrea Tantaros and Meghan McCain. Where do they get these people?  They, among others at Fox news, accused President Obama of displaying tears of the crocodile strain as he recollected the slaughter of first graders at Sandy Hook https://www.rawstory.com/2016/01/fox-host-president-obama-put-a-raw-onion-in-his-podium-so-he-could-cry-fake-tears-for-kids-killed-by-guns/

Holy shit even I was tearing up when the president mentioned that harrowing incident. In fact, you mention any kind of death of a seven year old and I get choked up. You have to expect this kind of bullshit from Sean Hannity, but these are women, I believe. Generally that gender produces our more sensitive and caring types. WTF is wrong with these stupid bitches. It’s clear from their statements these women can’t possibly have children of their own. I guess that’s the one positive thing we can conclude from their insensitive remarks. Andrea and Meghan. Please don’t let your birth control prescriptions lapse. As souless as you are, extracting any parenting skills, let alone any emotion except enmity, out of your cold, black hearts would seem to be such an impossibility you would pose a danger to your prodigy.

 

 

 

 

 

Second Amendment Sanity

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If you recall, when I left off my friend and neighbor Farhad and I were both absorbed in the task of solving one of our country’s most perplexing problems- how not to get shot. We decided we need some nice gun-restricted space.  See my previous blog “San Bernardino” if you are interested.  We have progressed through initial planning and haven’t worked out all the details quite yet, but we think we are getting a handle on things.  Starting us off in the right direction is the name for our program.  We think it’s pretty catchy.  It is called Second Amendment Sanity.  SAS is the logical acronym, which should not be confused with ASA, the chemical abbreviation for aspirin (acetylsalicylic acid in case your are confused) which works pretty well for headaches but won’t give you a lot of pain relief if you get shot.

Here are the basic steps we think will be required to provide us with an environment of gun-restricted space.  The list is kind of long, but if you pay attention, no doubt you will realize our logic is unflawed.

The first thing is a petition.  We need to get that going.  I’m not sure how you go about that, but I will google it.  Can’t be too hard.  That google business.  I wish I would have thought that up.  Everybody’s using it, but I thought I heard somewhere it’s not going to be called google anymore.  That might fuck me up.

The next thing we need is the space.  Farhad’s original thought was a city ordinance in Omaha.  No guns in Omaha.  That’s the way he would really like to go.  Check your guns as soon as you cross into city limits, like you saw in the movie “Unforgiven.” Gene Hackman really laid a beat down on Richard Harris and Clint Eastwood for noncompliance of that statute.  We don’t want shit like that to go down.   I had to tell Farhad he was off the beam here, but not because Gene Hackman might show up and go ballistic   It was because Farhad wasn’t seeing the big picture.  Omaha is all filled up.  There is no doubt in my mind this thing is really going to catch on and we are going to need a much bigger space, for new housing and such.  I finally convinced Farhad we might as well go long and zone the entire state of Nebraska.  There are a couple of logical reasons to do so.

First of all, there’s that tricky legal business.  We need some laws passed, and since our U.S. congress can’t seem to get its shit together on gun control, we need the accommodation of a state legislature, and we need a state legislature that has the balls to tell the NRA leadership to stick all their guns up their asses.  It’s a long shot in a conservative state like Nebraska I know, but Nebraska has something not going for it that all the other states do- two legislative bodies.  Nebraska has a unicameral.  There’s no shifting responsibly back and forth between a senate and a house.  All the bickering gets done in one place so they can’t pass the buck off to another school of spineless jellyfish.  Another possibility is Hawaii. Hardly anyone in that state owns a gun anyway, so overcoming 2nd amendment paranoia would be less problematic. If worse comes to worse, Farhad and I would have no problem relocating to Hawaii. That move would certainly have a sweet side to it. Sandy beaches and hula girls. Whoa baby!  My kids are all grown up and on their own, so my wife and I have been downsizing anyway. Farhad has two teenagers that are a little sensitive about all the school site harassment they get over their religion, so he figures the move might be advantageous. So we might get a petition drive going over there too.

Female agriculture farmer success                                      Woman in hawaii costume drink juice.

———-GOOD————-                                         ——BETTER——-

Then we have to secure our borders.  I don’t think we have to go nuts on this and build a gigantic wall around the entire state of Nebraska or anything.  Farhad and I have both seen how slick state patrol monitoring operates on our western border.  We are pretty sure regular policing with that agency will work out nicely.  That seems to be the case with marijuana possession anyway.   You ought to see all the cars frantically pulling off to the shoulder of Interstate 80 when their drivers are suddenly confronted by the big “Canine Patrol Ahead” sign that greets Nebraska visitors coming across the Colorado/Nebraska state line.

Depositphotos_10600799_s-2015                                                      Officer With Trained Dog Smelling The Bag

A Day in a Park                                                           A Night in a Jail

But Farhad and I really don’t care about restricting marijuana.  The intent of our plan is to make sure what you don’t posses in our gun-restricted space is a hand gun or assault rifle.  So here we go with the trickiest part of the whole deal.

I am sorry, but the second amendment needs a serious revisit.  That thing has been collecting cobwebs for over two centuries.  There is no doubt in my mind that if our founding fathers, during the process of drafting the second amendment,  had been able to foresee the savage mayhem created by the current gun culture of this country, they would have utilized all of their collective wisdom and devoted a significantly more number of words, paragraphs, and attention to detail to it than that which exists in its original twenty seven word, one sentence form.  When that first session of congress threw the second amendment down on paper it was as if they were in a big hurry to leave the city of New York and get home.  Actually, they kind of were.  New York was  a shit hole at the time I guess.  I think if they were around today they would admit they should have spent a little more time on it.  In fact, had James Madison seen this coming when he first proposed the Bill of Rights, he would have made sure the only future ambiguity involved in the second amendment would be the sorting out of all the specifics of its entangled legalese.

If our founding fathers were around today, here are some specifics of our gun-restricted space that they would not only consider constitutional, but that probably would convince most to pack their bags and relocate to our space.

Hand guns and assault rifles- sorry, but if you have one or ten of these, tough shit.  You have to give them up.  What our founding fathers would make clear in no uncertain terms is any firearm manufactured for the sole intent of killing people will be a  prohibited possession of the general civilian population.  In the case of a hand gun, that intent may not have been something original, but that is the intent to which it has evolved. Look up the crime statistics yourself if you don’t believe me.  And I know what you’re thinking.  What about self defense?  It’s always nice to be able to shoot somebody if he breaks into your house.  Well that’s the beauty of our gun-restricted space.  You can’t have a hand gun, but neither can the intruder. You should be able to take care of him with a Louisville Slugger.  Go  to the park and hit a few fungos.  You’ll get the hang of it.

In the case of an assault rifle, killing people is its original intent, period.   Therefore, hand guns and assault rifles shall be retained by trained, enrolled law enforcement and military personnel only.  Shooting people is part of their job description, not yours.  And you should know blatant, unrestrained use of firearms by law enforcement will not be tolerated in our gun-restricted space.  But you should also know  that if you point a hand gun or assault rifle at a police officer, expect the worst.  In the interest of fairness, should you own these types of firearms,  we will have a buy-back program in place.  We aren’t total assholes.

Then we have to deal with hunting rifles.  It’s a large gray area we have to narrow down.  They are supposed to be used for hunting game.  I have lost interest, but at one time I even liked to hunt.  I understand the attraction.   But sometimes hunting rifles are used to shoot people.   That is a very sadistically twisted intent of their use.  Once again I defer to our founding fathers.  By way of helping everyone understand why our founding fathers left so much ambiguity within the second amendment when it was transcribed, take a look at the examples below.

Royal Guardsman during the re-enactment of the War of Succession                                          rifle and pistol both hands isolated on white

Example Number 1                                                              Example Number 2

Of the two examples above, which one represents the person best equipped to conduct a   psychotically induced shooting rampage in a busy shopping mall?  Of course.  Number 2.  No brainer.  About all that our founding fathers knew concerning rifles is what you see in example Number 1.  If they would have had any inkling of what would transpire in firearms development they would have shit their capri pants.  So there’s our solution.  You will be able to own a rifle for hunting, but only if it is classified as a muzzle loader.  All that dicking around with a ramrod and wadding is just the safe way to go.  Your aunt Sally could take out almost anyone in the process of reloading a muzzle loader in a shopping mall with a good swing of her purse.  So for game hunting, it’s a muzzle loader. It’s what our founding fathers intended.  That’s it.  No exceptions.  Farhad and I are through pissing around with this.  We both also think this regulation will provide a more level playing field for the hunted.  It makes the whole experience more sporting.

Finally, the punishment for possession of a hand gun will be a 50 year prison sentence plus a gun shot in the hand.  Should you posses an assault rifle, punishment for that will be wherever the bullets end up in you after confiscation.

I know the list of prohibited firearms seems overly restrictive, but that’s just the way it’s got to be.  Just like people who want their firearms, there are people like us who don’t.  We deserve the right to live where there are zero or limited firearms, just like others deserve the right to live where they can get shot.  We aren’t saying you can’t have all those guns.  We are just saying you can’t have all those guns in our gun-restricted space.  You simply need to go away to some other space.  Texas has a bunch of space reserved just for you, and if you are really into getting shot, there is an extremely favorable chance Louisiana and Mississippi will work out nicely for you.http://247wallst.com/special-report/2015/06/10/10-states-with-the-most-gun-violence/4/

Well there you have it. That’s our SAS program in a nutshell.  If you are inclined to live your life in a less anxious state, I suggest you support our SAS initiative. Farad is working on our petition at this very moment. He has three computers all networked in his house.  I think I’ll pop over and see how it’s going.  That son of a bitch is a computer genius.