NO SOPA NO PIPA
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
I am a little late posting my take on Weer'd Beard's suggestion for the light a candle non event. Anyway, I sent my pictures over to Marooned first and he posted one of dems. Thanks bud! Anyway here's the first one that he didn't post and yes, Virginia, there IS sarcasm contained there in the 1000 words dealyo...
This one is titled "not afraid of the dark". I think 45 rounds of .40 s&w backed up by 6 of 00 buckshot should be able to do a pretty good job of preventing any of the SNBI clan from needing a candle lit for them. And who needs a candle anyway when ya got D-cells? They do a pretty good job of crackin' a skull or two when need be.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Yes, I did just go there. Please go out and do something nice for someone you don't even know. When they ask you why, just say it's to celebrate His birthday and leave it at that. Have a blessed Christmas and I will be back to mumble and jive after the new year.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Take the time to visit one of my favorite blogs. Please remember to breathe! Count to ten, then remember where you were the day that Timmy the TOOL McVeigh killed all those men, WOMEN and CHILDREN. Then remember to thank your government in November. http://sipseystreetirregulars.blogspot.com/2011/11/ssi-exclusive-hiding-mass-murder-behind.html.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
I am very fortunate to live in a quiet, out of the way spot. It's nice not to have to worry about getting mugged when I walk out my front door or getting shot at in traffic. However, rural living does have it's downside. I have to deal with stuff like this...
It's not really that big a deal because I have cats. Thankfully they had dispatched this one before I had to. Of course they had to show it to me, but they wanted to finish playing with it first. The bad part is that they left it under my bed and it was a female who had just given birth. She was still warm and had what appeared to be afterbirth exiting her backside. No babies in site. Maybe the cats will find them and I will awaken to the crunching of rat-itos in the middle of the night. This reminded me of an "adventure" I had previously.
About this time last year, the cats brought in a live one; male and twice as big. I only noticed the sex because I had to pull him by the tail from the baseboard heater in the kitchen. You see, the cats had brought the little bugger in and he was hiding in the recliner in the living room. How long? No clue. But there was this odd squeaking coming from the chair every time someone would sit in it. I finally woke all the way up and decided to check underneath. That's when the Rat from Hades jumped at me, missed my face by mere inches, and went hightailing it across the kitchen and into the baseboard heater by the fridge with just his hideously huge dragon-esque tail peeking out from under the panel. Not a muskrat, mind you. Just a 7-10" long from nose to base of tail, 6-8" around fat Norway rat. Not jolly fat, though. Mean, dirty, gross, pissed off lifer inmate in a supermax, fat.
I retrieved a bucket, cover, and donned a pair of welding gloves and decided to merely remove him to the backyard. This was one strong rodent. I pulled pretty good, what I thought was enough to pull his tail off, and he still wouldn't budge. Then. He. Screeched. Not the cute little squeak you get from mice or even regular sized pet rats. Nay, nay. This made my skin crawl. The kind of screech you hear in horror movies or something like that, long and loud.
Okay, time for a change of tactics. With one hand I pulled on the tail and with the other I slammed the top of the register panel, not noticing that my fingers had wrapped around to the inside. Mistake Number One. That critter bit down on my gloved finger and I felt his teeth just graze my forefinger and nail. Kinda made me jump, but at least he let goof the pipes. I wrenched him out and held him up to the light just before dropping him into the bucket. I noticed that he had enormous(e) testicles. "Good grief! Thank the Lord the kids missed that!", I thought to myself as I dropped him in the 5 gallon pail and quickly put the lid on.
On the way out the door I decided that this animal was large enough to carry off one of my kids so I decided not to give him the chance. I was going to grab my Ruger Mark II but then I thought to myself....."I wonder what my Glock would do to this thing?" It was settled, I grabbed the .40 cal and reasoned that if .22 was enough, then .40 was more than enough. Mistake Number Two.
I carried this "thing" in the bucket out to the edge of the woods, drew my sidearm, kicked the lid off the bucket and expected to see the rat scurry away. Not Quite! This demon spawn jumped straight up, turned in mid air to face me, and landed outside the bucket with and audible thud and his teeth bared.
"You're an Angry Elf, aren't you?" I said as I squeezed the trigger. This shot knocked him back head over teakettle, removed his left front leg, and exited mid back. Assuming it was done, I re-holstered, turned around, grabbed the bucket, and started back toward the house. That's when I heard something odd. I turned back around and was a bit startled. Not only was the rat still alive, he was screaming bloody murder and hopping toward me. He wasn't coming straight at me though. Since that front leg was gone he was kinda skittering sideways, almost crablike.
I hate seeing any animal suffer, even evil ogre-like spawn of satan. As he hopped I caught him on the way up with a second shot. This one removed most of his middle and exited right rear, taking that leg with it, and spun him around. "That's enough of that." I mumbled and turned to leave a second time. Nice shootin' Tex. Guess again. That cheese eatin' kamikaze still wasn't finished. I turned around and there he was, screeching away and pulling himself toward me. That scene with the Black knight from Monty Python and The Holy Grail was now playing in my skull.
If I had meant to make this thing suffer, that would have been one thing. But I wanted to be done and I couldn't seem to make a clean kill. I mean it's skull was enormous, and at 12 feet, I could not hit it for the life of me. I shot again and missed, followed up and hit him in the right shoulder. Still coming, still howling away.
Finally, at about 8 feet I got the head shot, and thankfully no twitch. You would think that Remington Golden Sabers would have done the job, but I guess they're really not designed to expand in only 4" of flesh. Next time I'll just take the Mossy with me and be done with it.