A Gun Post! Look at All The Controversy!

Guns! Yes, guns. I like guns. Guns, guns, guns. Guns! I am not a crazy gun toter. I do not belong to the National Rifle Association. In fact, I think that the NRA oversteps their bounds far too much. I mean, I know that they are concerned with guns other than rifles.  

One of my favorite guns to shoot, and my Dad's least favorite to clean, was the Colt Navy. This was the first gun that I really remember my Dad owning, even though I know he had some, but I think they just hung out in the attack. It was a reproduction, and it was very cool looking. It was a cowboy gun! The first one was not the sturdiest thing, and after a while my Dad retired it to a decorative piece. But he replaced it with another. This one was all stainless steel. It was a crazy looking thing. It was huge and shiny. I liked to call it the hand cannon.

The Colt Navy was a six shot, black powder revolver. This thing really was history in motion. A kid can gain a lot of respect for a civil war soldier just from watching this thing be loaded. It took a long time. Each cylinder gets a certain amount of black powder, a ball and a “wad.” All of which need to be packed down individually using the ram rod lever attached under the barrel. It could take 10 minutes. If you were fast, maybe 5. Think about that while you're hiding behind a log with an army shooting similar lead balls in the direction of your head.

Once you've done that, you have six shots. Good luck.

You literally see in black and white while shooting this.

Living history aside, it was a lot of fun to make go boom. I learned my marksman technique from this gun. It's naturally much more inaccurate than a modern weapon and therefore you have to concentrate far more. I would brace myself against a support structure, like poll supporting the roof of the firing line. Then I'd close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. Raise the weapon while inhaling once more and then hold it in. Don't blink, don't even think. Just aim, and when you're ready pull the trigger so slowly that it startles you when it goes off.

And this thing would definitely startle you. Fire came out of the barrel! And not in small amounts! I still love shooting this thing, but like I said, my Dad hates cleaning it. And I don't want to clean it. So I don't bug him too much about it. He also has a .50 caliber long gun that is beautiful and also black powder. I don't bother him about that one either. It's also not so easy to clean. Plus, it's only one shot. But what a shot it is!

The smell of a black powder gun is also something that sticks with you. Smell is the strongest scent related to memory, and the smell of a recently discharged black powder round is one of those for me. I was lucky growing up to have a Dad who was into this stuff, and luckier still to have been a weird enough kid to appreciate it.  

All That et Une Frites

Bonjour! La pomme et les robes sont rouge. Le garcon est riche. L'homme et la femme ecris une lettre.

That was French. I wrote it myself. I didn't use Google translate or anything, it came out of my very own head, my own head which knows French now. Four days ago I knew no French. How did I do it? It's a secret. OK I'll tell you. I went to Paris and sat in a cafe for four days and spoke only French and ate baguettes and snails. There was a beret.

That was a lie. Snails are gross. I didn't eat snails. The rest is true.

That was a lie too. I didn't go to France. What I did do was use a free app on my phone while laying in bed at night. I'm amazed at how well this works. If this free app has performed this miracle, I can only imagine what the far too expensive Rosetta Stone can do. I'd almost be willing to buy it if I had any kind of real reason to learn French other than wanting to feel fancy.

I took Spanish in school. Spanish is a way sexier language than French in my opinion. “Tu es muy caliente” is much more arousing than “Vous etes choud,” which when pronounced properly sounds like you're falling asleep at the end. Also, I may have used Google translate for that one, I'm not far enough into my app to know “hot” yet.

I want to visit France one day. It is a beautiful, culturally wealthy country and when I go there I want to speak their language. Being able to speak the language of a country you're visiting sets you apart from the tourists. It makes you a traveler. Even if you can't speak fluently, most locals respect that fact that you tried and will then speak English with you. Communication aside, speaking a language allows you a deeper understanding of the culture. Speaking with someone in their native tongue puts them at ease and gives you a better experience.

The French are known to be, well, French. And Parisians are double French with a side of frites de pomme de terre. At least, this is the stereotype. My parents visited Paris (speaking no French mind you) and even my Father, after a lifetime of talking about how terrible the French are, found Parisians to be polite, helpful and kind. He even told me this after having his wallet and passport stolen and coming down with a cold. He also said that, not surprisingly, the food in Paris was the best that they had on their whole tour of Europe.

If my parents are correct, and Parisians are not as awful as their reputations says, imagine what speaking their language could net you. Imagine being in France and for the time that you are there actually being French. This goes for any country. I've learned in the past 4 days that it is surprisingly easy to learn a language if you want to learn it. It is, in fact, easier than learning it in school ever was. So do yourself a favor, download Duolingo and choose a language that excites you. You will feel enriched and you'll be better for it.

A Bird in The Hand Will Poop

I was sitting in my living room watching Love Actually when I saw a pretty little bird outside the window. I thought, “How lovely. What a lovely little bird. Hello feathered friend!” Then it flew away, the fickle bitch. So I started reading up on songbirds of the United States. Here are some fun facts:

The Common Cuckoo visits the nests of other birds during mating season. It will shove the eggs already laid in the nest out and sometimes eat them. It then lays its own eggs in the carnage and continues on its way.

There is a middle English poem written in the 12^th or 13^th century called The Owl and the Nightingale. It is an argument between the two birds, obviously, whatever else could it be about?

The juvenile of the Common Raven when finding a food source will send out a “recruitment call.” This alerts other juveniles to the beast feast thus allowing the juveniles to outnumber the adults and not be chased away.

Mockingbirds are dicks.

The taxonomic name of the America Robin is Turdus migratorius. This translates, loosely, to “traveling turd.” Indeed.

Blue Jays have vocalizations known to bird watchers as the “rusty pump.” African American folklore says that the Blue Jay is a servant of the devil and never seen on Fridays because it is too busy collecting sticks to stoke the fires of hell.

There are way too many species of Cardinal to deal with.

Hope this information was useful and gives you a sense of oneness with the wilderness in your backyard!

Zak 4 Life

I freakin' love paranormal TV shows. I just can't fathom the depths of denial and gullibility that these people are swimming in. Now, I do believe in some form of afterlife, and I do not completely write off the existence of “ghosts” or “spirits” or what-have-yous. And since I watch so many of these shows I must admit that out of the hundreds of hours of footage I have absorbed I have seen 1 or 2 things that I was genuinely intrigued by, and I watch Ghost Adventures (Obviously, the penultimate resource on supernatural happenings. Zak Bagans 4 life. His book is on my coffee table.).

One of these things was personal footage of a family's home with a supposed poltergeist haunting. The people, to me, seemed credible and have made no money off of their footage. What they showed was their home, after they had gotten up in the morning, with permanent marker scribbled on the walls, cans of food stacked to the ceiling everywhere, furniture flipped upside down, etc. They had hours of footage of these events, obviously taken at different times. They would always clean everything up only to have it happen again. The overall package presented actually gave me pause. Either these people were telling the truth, or they were all very good actors.

This story told, let's move on to the pile of crap that is most of this nonsense. Right now I am in the midst of a mini marathon of “Haunted Highway,” Jack Osbourne's supernatural/cryptid adventure extravaganza! This particular episode consists of Jack and his friends hanging bits of meat from trees and screaming and running a lot. There's some sweet IR shots of raccoons in the distance too! What am I learning from this? If you go out into the desert at night, there will be potentially dangerous wild animals. Whether or not they are “skinwalkers” is irrelevant. You are dumb.

My second favorite of these shows (The first being Ghost Adventures. Zak 4 life.), is Finding Bigfoot. These people try so hard. You gotta give them a pat on the back. They organize town hall style meetings with the local townies to talk about their bigfoot experiences. They actually do some semblance of research, and you think “OK, there's a little science, I'll stick with it.” But then, things start to get “squatchy” and the show devolves into running and screaming at night in the woods accompanied by the chilling the sounds of fat men making “squatch calls.”

I also enjoy “A Haunting,” but mostly for the awful reenactments that they produce. There is no science, no investigating, no real effort. They just find some people who had a spooky time 20 years ago and then hire some “close enough” looking actors to recreate said spooky time. These stories always end with “and he was never seen again.”

I will never stop watching these shows. I love seeing what people will think they saw. They freak themselves out and lose all sense of reality. And it's pretty hilarious most of the time, especially right now when it's Jack Osbourne wandering through an old mine in the middle of the night rattling chains to summon hell hounds. "I think what we have here is a hell hound in the cave and a cryptid that we don't know about. That's a plausible scenario." In closing, Zak 4 life.

Smoldering Intensity.

Don't Look Now, But You're Already Being Eaten

I believe that some dinosaurs are the genetic ancestors of birds. Now, I said some. Triceratops, Stegosaurus, Diplodocus and even my beloved T-Rex probably are not hiding inside the genetic code of my Cockatiel. He would probably argue with that, he clearly believes that he is a full blown top-tier predator. Even so, when I look at those wings and those hooked claws dangling on the end of skinny, scaly legs I can't help but see a tiny dinosaur. Look at the footprint of a Raven one day, and then look at the footprint of a big theropod. There are similarities.

One of the most famous of the bird-type dinosaurs is the velociraptor. The first thing that you should know, if you don't by now, is that the velociraptor made famous by Jurassic Park is a lie. Velociraptor was tiny. He may have been quick, but not scary quick like the movies. I am also sure that they didn't systematically attack electric fences or learn how to open doors. But, there were no doors or electricities in the Cretaceous, so what do I know?

Anyway, there is a monster called Utahraptor that may warrant another look. This single specimen found in, well, Utah, is a lot more exciting. Standing at 6 feet tall and sporting the eponymous giant retractable toe claw, this guy would probably hang out in a dark alley. We know that this guy regularly grew to the size of a grizzly bear, but there is speculation that some may have been upwards of 30 feet long.

Now, imagine a 30 foot long bird-like killing machine. It's adorned with a new fashion accessory, feathers. It's slowly moving its head back and forth, allowing its eyes to focus on you better. It's faster and smarter than Tyrannosaurus, and just as large. It is the wave of the future. And in the time that you have been conjuring up the image of this alley dwelling monster it is already eating your legs.

Why did Hollywood forsake our very own, American born raptor for a ridiculous, over sized version of a tiny mouse eater? I guess “velociraptor” just sounds way too cool. Which it does. I'll give them that. But, a whole generation of less educated dinosaur enthusiasts were totally let down by the sad reality of velociraptor. I however, upon seeing the velociraptor's silver screen debut, giggled. I also giggled at the “dilophosaurus,” because, you know, what the fuck was that? Also, I was 9 at the time.

They Crunch and Then Squish When You Bite Them

Eating is gross. Think about it. Biting, chewing, swallowing, it's all kind of disgusting. Think about a cow with the sideways chewing, grinding grass and cud. I mean, what is cud? It's solid puke is what it is. And they chew it and swallow it multiple times. No, it's gross, it's gross. Now think about your fat uncle at Thanksgiving. Yes, now you see it. Eating is gross.

We have to eat. We have to eat to live, unfortunately. We need things, things to make us go. So, naturally a culture has grown up around the subject of food and eating. We all have to do it, so let's capitalize on it. This is the “foodie” culture. Foodies are people who are so into food that they actually do it for a hobby, or a job. How do you “do” food as a hobby? And why aren't all of these people morbidly obese? Every food blogger I've ever seen is a skinny, beautiful person. Where are the tubby bastards? Those are the people who's opinion I want on food. The skinny ones only talk about salads and sprouts and tofu crap. These people aren't foodies, they're some kind of bipedal rabbits.

As far as I'm concerned newsworthy food involves, wait, never mind, food isn't newsworthy! Christ, it's food. I actually heard the phrase “culinary map of America” on a news program. An honest to God news program. It was a real story. Shouldn't you be covering something more pressing than stuff that people shove into their mouths that literally will become shit?

I don't understand this notion of adventurous eating either. People like Andrew Zimmern who wander the world stuffing their faces with fetal fowl, fish that can kill you if cleaned improperly and a plethora of things with exoskeletons that aren't prawns. This isn't food, it's sadomasochism. I have no interest in eating bugs. There's a lot of talk about insects being the “protein of the future” because they're extremely prevalent, easy to cultivate, and apparently full of delightful nutrients.

They also crunch and then squish when you bite them.

No.

No.

Very no.

I have discovered a phenomenon known as “texturous interruptous.” This is why certain people, like myself, can't mix foods on their plate. Let's use a simple example, yogurt. Many people enjoy yogurt with bits of fruit. I like yogurt. I also like fruit. But if I am eating yogurt and get a bit of fruit I will vomit. It's not a taste problem, it's the interruption of the smooth texture of yogurt by the slimy, sometimes crunchy texture of the fruit. I will vomit. I believe that all restaurants should use segmented plates. Gordon Ramsay would say that I hate food because of this, and I'm OK with that. My father has always said that he would be content to blenderize his entire meal and squeeze it into his mouth from a pastry bag. But what if there is an errant piece of unblended corn? Vomit.

So, if you are feeding me. Please, do not be pretentious. And if you are a pretentious food Nazi and you tone it down for me, tone it down again. Because I will snub you. I will 100% snub you and your silly food.

Kill me.

It's Oozing Character On To You

Today I had planned to build an airplane model. But, instead I've sat around watching Love Actually and thinking about writing about building an airplane model. I like to build airplane models. I find the tedium relaxing. It's meditative. Building an airplane model requires small amounts of glue and tweezers and large amounts of patience. I don't know many people who can tolerate it.

It has nothing to do with a love of airplanes in general. I like them well enough I guess, as a mode of transportation. Their physics are pretty amazing. I don't know why I build airplanes as opposed to tanks or cars or ships. Although trying a ship in a bottle might be interesting, or it might kill me.

I think I like the lines of them. The speed with which they can move. Airplanes are, by nature, sleek. And military planes, which I tend to favor, always have interesting paint schemes and decals. I have a P-51D Mustang that says “Lollypoop” on the side. Why? I don't know, probably because it's American.

If you haven't tried building a model, of something, anything, give it a try. I can't promise you will actually enjoy it, but it does build character. Character is something lacking in people these days. Maybe airplane models are secretly full of character that seeps out every time you cut the spru. That sounds a bit gross, but it happened all the time in the 40s to 70s I guess. Everyone was just full of character then.

The decals however are not particularly filled with character, or fun. They are mostly filled with annoyance. They aren't stickers. They really are decals. You have to soak them in water and then slide them onto the thing that you just painstakingly painted. I'm always worried that the water will just make all the paint go away. Then you get it properly positioned and it's still not stuck, because it's not a sticker it's a decal, and your finger gently touches it and it goes all wonky and you whisper under your breath “fuck” because what else can you do?

Anyway, build a model, it's good for you.

Beagle Travel Preparedness Check List

Nothing is more sad than a car sick beagle, except maybe the plague or the holocaust.

When a beagle gets into a car it usually loses its mind first, then it drools, then it starts to pant and gets all crazy eyed. Before you know it it's pawing at the windows and then there's a chunky visitor. And if you are me, you must then choke back your own chunky visitor (I'm a sympathetic vomiter.). After which you must clean up. Because now there's dog puke on your upholstery.

Traveling with my beagle, whose name is Cinderella (“Uh huh,” you may say.), involves much preparation. Perhaps, if you have a beagle, you will find this “Beagle Travel Preparedness Check List” handy:

1. You will need a plastic bin. A medium sized Rubbermaid storage container that fits neatly on your rear car seat (sans lid) will do nicely.
2. Line the bin with an old blanket. I use an old full size comforter. You want it to be large so that your “special” dog can ride in soft comfort but also so that when the chunky visitor comes you can move the soiled portion out of the bin. You know, so that things stay clean.
3. You will need to pack a bag now. Include a few (FEW) treats and some kibble as you won't want to feed your dog immediately before traveling. Also include a full (FULL) roll of paper towels and several plastic bags. I also bring a few hand towels. Add a couple bottles of water to keep your vomity pet hydrated and a collapsible bowl. If your pet has any toys that it likes bring those too.
4. Secure the bin to the backseat with the seat belt. Now is a good time to note that a beagle cannot be left alone in a car. Someone will have to ride in the back with the dog at all times. If you're traveling by yourself, well, you're not going!
5. Introduce the beagle to the fluffy, lined bin. (Without this bin, beagle will run amok and end up chunking in your lap. The bin is control. Love the bin.) Insert yourself in the seat next to the bin. Get your plastic bags and paper towels ready and enjoy the trip!

When you get to your destination, give beagle a good walk. If your trip was short, the chunky visitor may wait until you are out of the car. If your trip has been long, obviously you both just need a nap, and a trash can.

After this terrible description I must say that beagles are amazing dogs, and not all of them get car sick. And I gladly deal with this issue as the joy that my little princess brings to me far outweighs some blowing of chunks on occasion.

Beagles are stalwart and stubborn little dogs. They are resilient and loyal. And, by God, they are cute. A beagle puppy in my opinion is the cutest damn thing ever. EVER. Yes, cuter than your human baby child. I find all puppies cuter than baby human children, but that's a completely different issue. I have no maternal instinct toward my own species.

Punch That Whore in Her Whore Face

What's In Your DVD Player? And what does it say about you? When I walk into someone's house it's one of the first things I look at. It's a litmus test of good personality. I look in, on and around their entertainment console area for a tell tale stack of DVDs. I don't look at their collection as a whole as this can be misleading. People will own almost anything, and you can't account for the tastes of gift givers.

What you want to see is what they choose to actually watch. Nowadays most people have a multi-disc changer. I have a stack of 5. Right now, in my movie machine, there is Batman: The Dark Knight Rises, Love Actually, Inception, The Hobbit and Hot Fuzz. Now, I'm me, so I know me pretty well. And all that I can suss from this list that I'm a nerd.

But let's try to put our Someone-Who's-Never-Met-Me hat on for a moment. I see Batman there on the top of the pile (I still haven't seen this movie P.S., it's been in there since it came out on DVD but we don't know that.). This tells me that I like gritty adventure movies, and more specifically Batman. Therefore I may be a comic book fan in general. Perhaps I just like BDSM.

Next up I see Love Actually. That's an odd follow up, huh? So I like rom coms. Maybe I'm not too proud of that and I shouldn't try to make conversation about it with me because it will just get awkward quickly. Maybe I have a huge crush on Colin Firth. Maybe I want to punch that Portuguese whore in her whore face for talking ugly to that which is mine. More likely it's because I'm a huge Walking Dead fan and enjoy watching the softer side of Andrew Lincoln. Again, we come to the natural conclusion that I am a huge nerd.

Inception is an artistic and thought provoking film made of elaborate and intellectual twists and turns. It encases some of the best performances squeezed out of some of the best actors of the moment. It's also a wicked funny internet meme.

We need to go deeper. Inception stars the guy who played Scarecrow from Batman Begins. It also stars the exceptional Joseph Gordon Levitt of Third Rock from The Sun fame. If we put those two facts together and mash them around in the alternate time line blender we discover that I am, in fact, a huge nerd.

The last two movies are The Hobbit and Hot Fuzz, so let's just skip the breakdowns and crusty jugglers and say that I'm a huge nerd. And maybe I'm not the best example of this personality deduction technique. However if someone is obviously engaged in watching Howard The Duck, Showgirls and Gigli you might want to reconsider your friend group.

Sexy Cars

Ever watch car porn? I have. Here's some: http://carpr0n.tumblr.com.

Most car owners are just that, owners. Drive to work, drive home, take kids to soccer, visit Mom at the home. Bleh. Then there are car lovers. And it's not like they love cars the way someone loves hot dogs or bunnies, they are car lovers. Probably better called car-make-lovers. Car fuckers.

I would be a car fucker but I have no money, so I'm more of a car voyeur. The cars that I want to make love to cost more than your house. I promise. But what is so great about a ridiculous, pointy demon vehicle? I have no answer for you. They are great because they are, because in a car you become more than just you. You are a man-machine.

Think about this, you sing in your car. You sing like you're playing rock band with no one else, or a video game console. Or you pick your nose. Or maybe you've changed your clothes. All while thinking that no one could see you. Because a car is like a cloaking device for gross and stupid things. This is because you become one body with your car, on meaty metallic flesh. 

If the car you become one with is this: 

I'm sorry.

But if it's this:

Well, hello Mr. Postman. 

I could not find one sexy picture of a Kia. I found sexier pictures of Margaret Thatcher. 

Ramen noodles as head gear was all the rage in those days.

Cheap cars aren't sexy. They just aren't. They can be fun, they can be economical, they can be sporty, but they just aren't sexy. And this is sad. Because I'm a poor bastard. And while I do appreciate my Dodge Caliber's relative usefulness it does not make me want to rub my naked body with oil and slide around on its hood.

So I ask of you, nay, I beg of you Ford, Toyota, Chevrolet and dare I say Kia: Please, please design a sexy budget ride for those of us who just want to slide around on an oily bonnet. It's good for the soul. Help rescue the souls of your people from anticlimactic motoring, because I know that it is possible to take the kids to school or visit Mom at the home and still feel sexy and special for the few moments that you're behind the wheel. It's all some of us have.