I scored some free ammo courtesy of Ammo Man, so if you're in the market for ammunition, go have a look. The prices are very competitive, and they've got a nice selection of calibers and brands.
I wouldn't exactly tell 'em Mad Jack sent me! and expect to get anything special. For one thing, they don't know me all that well.
Non-Standard Disclaimer: For those of you who voted for, or (Heaven help us all) actually supported Feinstein, pack up your preferred pronouns and go read I'm a Sensitive Zealot. Believe me, we'll all be happier.
Okay, you've been warned...
Unlike most of my contributions to the canon of western literature, this post will do nothing more that irritate, incense, and annoy the anti-freedom idiots who truly believe that owning an AR-15 is akin to burning not-a-president Joseph Robinette Biden Jr. in effigy while wearing a MAGA hat, singing The Star Spangled Banner, and donating to the President Donald Trump Reelection Fund.
That's a tall order, but I'm betting I could pull it off.
Somehow, and I genuinely do not know how, about 75 legitimate comments got moved into the spam folder. Some of these comments go back to the ice age, when I first started this hound.
If you were kind enough to post a comment and couldn't see it later on, it's because it got marked as spam. I went through the entire list and marked all the spam as legit, so now the comments can be seen. The only comment I deleted was posted by anonymous and notified the men on this dog as pigs. I think this contributor is a deranged female who used to call herself Baked Brie - she posted a similar comment on my post about a massage parlor that closed up.
My apologies for the error. I corrected it, and I'll keep a closer eye on things.
Since everyone knows what happened on September 11th, 2001, I'm not going to write a repetition. What follows is a brief personal opinion of the events that should have followed the attack.
Content Warning: If you're a thin skinned social justice warrior, LGBT - et al. member, follower, or supporter, or you're sensitive to racial slurs and easily insulted - keep reading. You'll die of an apoplexy and the world will be a better place - to an infinitely small degree, maybe, but still a better place.
Awright, cut out the noise, sit up and stop mumbling. That includes you, Glen Filthie - get your mind outta the gutter and pay attention.
Number One: Find all the anti-freedom fascist commie bastards and give 'em the bum's rush. Out the back, Glen! The back! That includes everyone that ain't regular, and by that I mean regular.
The back door! Ah... the boy's a slow learner, but he makes up for it with enthusiasm. The rest of you folks make yourselves comfortable, because I have an announcement to make.
While screwing around online, I tripped over an empty bourbon bottle (remind me to go to the liquor store later on today) and when I picked myself up I discovered that I was right in the middle of Cheaper Than Dirt! (CTD)
Which in turn reminded me that I was a bit low on 5.56 NATO...
At this point I'm issuing my standard warning to all moonbats, left wing idiots, and anti-freedom zealots. Go someplace else, because you are not going to like what you read next.
One of my favorite bloggers is Wirecutter, over at Knuckledraggin My Life Away. If you haven't read him, find a free half-hour and go see him - he writes an excellent blog.
One recurring title from the Wirecutter is Psycho Chicks - We've All Had 'Em. Maybe, maybe not, but by the time you've hit forty if you haven't met one you aren't living right.
Now me, I'm old enough and wise enough to know better than to get mixed up with a psycho chick, but every once in a while even someone with my experience gets blindsided.
Warning: If you're some kind of feminazi whack job or a left wing tool or something - save yourself a lot of grief and Xanax by visiting your favorite loonie lefty site. Forget you ever came here. The rest of you can keep reading.
I haven't reviewed an artist in quite a while, so here we go. Ah, but don't forget the standard disclaimer! Not safe for children, not safe for work, do not use with wet or damp hands... and if you're a thin skinned precious little snowflake - the first paragraph will cause a mental meltdown.
As all of my regular readers (such as they are - few in number, percipient in culture) know that I rarely, if ever, discriminate. I hate everyone equally. I despise most political groups, and I execrate all but a select few social groups. I also subscribe to the practice of ignoring those habits and consuetudes which are not obvious, and which I would never practice myself as I find them abhorrent.
Keep reading as you like with the usual warning and disclaimer - adult oriented racist hate speech ahead, triggers and micro-triggers are deliberate, this missive includes racist hate speech, void where prohibited, no deposit no return, the sleeves will ride up with wear, and thin skinned SJWs and affiliated moonbats will be offended to the point of mandatory psychiatric treatment.
Standard Disclaimer: This content is not suitable for most work places, thin skinned moonbats, politically correct people, or anyone under 18 years of age who can't think for themselves and has no sense of humor. If you can't tolerate hate speech, don't read this.
I was all set to write about this, and the Old NFO beat me to it. Take a look and a read if you're so inclined, and remember you saw it here - or something.
But before you do, you need a little background. A lot of the people reading this hound already know this, and have known it since they were ten years old. Two things you have to know about beer to appreciate what's happening here:
There's money involved in every step, which should answer most questions. So - got that? Brewer, distributor, bar, consumer, DUI, domestic, Fraternity Toga Party, and eventually, drunk tank. Like always, there's money in it.
Now that we're all on the same page, looking at the same picture of Ms. Budweiser Light of 2022, here we go...
Any gun owner knows that the Bill of Rights is a great idea, and that the first amendment recognizes the freedom of speech. Here it is for those of you who require a crib sheet:
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
We, the freedom loving gun owners, also know that the second amendment trumps the first - because free speech is a great thing until you piss off the wrong person, then - well, keep reading if you've the time and mind to do so.
Standard Disclaimer: Many people will find the rest of this missive offensive, to which I say - good. Mission accomplished.
Last time we went to the range my AR-15 performed nicely. I didn't suffer any misfeeds and I managed to put my shots on the paper. I didn't get my fingers caught in the action, either. California Dave was with us, firing his Rock River AR-15 for the first time, and had similar luck. No misfeeds, no broken fingers. Big Mike, however, was not as fortunate.
Trigger Warning: All anti-freedom commies, liberals, SJWs, snowflakes, and other pre-verts can go read something else about someone else. My blog, my deliberate trigger events.
And, while I'm at it, may I remind you that around here men are men. We treat ladies with courtesy and respect.
I had an armed robbery very close to my home. Here are the particulars and my own commentary, which is not safe for snowflakes, LGBT - et cetera things, and children under ten.
I bought a Rock River AR-15 a few weeks ago, and finally had a chance to take it out to the range to see if it performs as advertised. Here are the results and commentary.
Caution: Anti-freedom commie loving liberals should stop reading as they value their sanity.
The questionably melodic cacophony you hear from upstage center is not a goat mating with a penguin. It's the infamous Fat Lady, and she's closing out the show.
Keep reading for an amusing yet offensive denouement of Migraine One.
Read the previous post if you haven't already. I got a call this morning, and stupid me, I answered it without thinking.
Migraine One.
The people who read this dog on an irregular basis, and who have done so for some number of years, will have heard of Migraine One. This is a multi-ex girlfriend that I started dating when I was 21 and finally got shut of when I was about 30. We had an on-again, off-again, relationship that could best be described as gasoline and matches. The real problem with Migraine One is that she's neurotic with psychotic episodes and a drinking problem.
Keep reading at your own risk, keeping the usual disclaimer in mind: void where prohibited, no deposit no return, the sleeves will ride up with wear, do not use near fire or flame, and thin skinned SJWs, special little snowflakes, and affiliated moonbats will be triggered to the point of emergency psychiatric treatment. I recommend Doctor Glen Filthie of Someplace, Canada.
In the year of Out Lord One-Thousand Nine-Hundred Ninety and Nine, I landed a contract with the state of South Dakota. My office was in Pierre, (pronounced peer, as in long walk off a short...), South Dakota. The regular building was being remodeled, so we got moved into a refurbished department store in downtown Pierre on East Capitol Avenue, which runs NW to SE. I was on the South side of the street Across the street was the State Capitol Building, Capitol Lake is a man made artesian lake, and further down (SE of the lake) is the governor's mansion.
Some silly bitch sent me an email a week ago, which I finally got around to reading. The title of the email is How madjackshack.blogspot.com's users can safely support BLM online
I admit I was feeling a little blue for the past few days. A kind of 'down in the dumps' feeling. Then I read the Old NFO's blog and cheered right up.
This is old news, but I wanted the event to reach some kind of conclusion before I wrote about it. The standard disclaimer applies.
Unless you've been dead drunk the past week or so, you've heard all about the Chinese balloon that crossed the continental United States. After a good deal of meaningless meetings during which one bloviating baby-kisser after another tried to make himself heard above the roar, the U.S. finally shot the damned thing down.
Everyone has an opinion, and I'm no exception. Keep reading as it amuses you to do so.
This is my official Merry Christmas! post. Any of you who are not Christian, I'm wishing you a Happy Hanukkah or a Joyous Kwanzaa, whichever is most appropriate. For anyone who doesn't fall into one of these three categories, label yourself and stop causing trouble.
In times past both my parents were alive, and we had a large gathering for Christmas dinner. Among the eighteen or so guests were Uncle Sardonicus and Grandpa Parsimonious. My old dad really knew how to pour a drink, and Uncle Sardonicus liked to bend his elbow and pontificate on politics. Since he knew everything that was worth knowing, and since he was an idiot a liberal, these speeches could easily lead to a civilized disagreement. Keep reading - trust me.
I caught this story on Knuckledraggin My Life Away (which if you don't read, you should). You can check the link Oh, HELL NO!!!, but it actually leads to the story Project Veritas Undercover Highlights Chicago School Dean Bragging About Sharing Sex Toys with Minors in Classroom, as published on December 8, 2022, courtesy of The Conservative Treehouse.
Keep reading for a commentary and rant that is unsuitable for moon-bats, SJWs, and fragile little snowflakes.
Big Mike announced that he's stopped wondering why people do the bat-shit crazy, incredibly thick-headed things that often make the news. If I wanted a modicum of mental tranquility, I'd follow his example - but I'm not that bright. I'm the sort that will take my finger out of the dyke to see if she'll demand I plug her up again dike to see if the water will come out. Then I'll repair to the nearest bar and have a drink or three while the storm drain system overflows into the next country.
This latest move by the European Union and the environmentalists pretty much puts them all on the city council in Crazy Town, at least temporarily, and could easily lead to a genuine insurrection. Keep reading for half a rant, complete with a decent helping of testosterone fueled toxicity.
And they should be at DEFCON 1 or 2. Here's why I think that their standard operating procedure (SOP) is far too tolerant.
It seems there's a third rate social media site, Nextdoor. People create an account there to get the latest news about their neighborhood, as your account also has your geographic location. I got an account there a few years ago because of a crime problem, and that was that.
Until...
Rant warning. Foul language and politically incorrect insults ahead. Read at your own risk. SJWs should take two milligrams of Xanax before continuing.
I caught this one over on Knuckledraggin My Life Away (Where bad choices make good stories), which is an eclectic site that if you aren't reading at least irregularly, you should. All kinds of good folks hang out there, and they'll make damned near anyone welcome.
The story, Two years later..., gives a link to an absolutely fiendish case of child abuse and filicide, which you can read in Former NYPD Cop Found Guilty of Killing Son.
From the article:
LONG ISLAND - Former NYPD officer Michael Valva has been found guilty of murder in the death of his 8-year-old son.
Michael Valva, 40, allegedly forced his 8-year-old son, Thomas, to sleep in an unheated garage in below-freezing temperatures in January 2020, leading to the child's death.
Valva was found guilty on all charges against him, including the highest charge, second-degree murder.
He faces 25 years to life in prison.
An investigation by authorities had revealed evidence of alleged physical abuse and neglect by Valva and his then-girlfriend, Angela Pollina, between September 2017 and January 2020, including reports from the East Moriches School District alleging that on numerous occasions, Thomas and his brother arrived at school hungry, cold, soiled, or marked with scratches, bruises, and cuts.
This guilty verdict will not bring back 8-year-old Thomas, who suffered immense cruelty at the hands of his father, the same person who was entrusted to protect, provide and unconditionally love Thomas and his older brother Anthony," said Suffolk County District Attorney Raymond Tierney. "While there is nothing that we can do to bring Thomas back, we are satisfied with the jury’s decision."
I've got many more questions than answers on this one.
Michael Valva was an NYPD cop. How do you suppose he treated citizens he interacted with? How the hell was this twisted, sadistic son-of-a-bitch allowed to get on the police force to begin with?
Then there's Angelina Pollina, Valva's significant other. Two adult psychopaths in the same house at the same time, caring for children. No one saw anything? No one ever heard anything? This situation is not something anyone wakes up some morning and decides to do. Yeah, nice morning to start torture on the kids.
Each one of these sick SOBs has parents, one way or another. Both Valva and Pollina have a mother and father, and those parents know, beyond the shadow of any doubt at all, what their children are like. I'd bet they also knew the abuse the kids were suffering and never said a word.
How does this crap actually happen?
I got this off F**kB**k, and it came from some place in the Philippines. Link to a FB page:
Teresa Instructional Materials
From the blub:
According to Psychologists, there are four types of Intelligence:
1) Intelligence Quotient (IQ)
2) Emotional Quotient (EQ)
3) Social Quotient (SQ)
4) Adversity Quotient (AQ)
1. Intelligence Quotient (IQ): this is the measure of your level of comprehension. You need IQ to solve math's, memorize things, and recall lessons.
2. Emotional Quotient (EQ): this is the measure of your ability to maintain peace with others, keep to time, be responsible, be honest, respect boundaries, be humble, genuine and considerate.
3. Social Quotient (SQ): this is the measure of your ability to build a network of friends and maintain it over a long period of time (Ha! Ha!Ha! Ha!Ha!Ha! Oh yeah, we sure see a lot of that these days).
People that have higher EQ and SQ tend to go further in life than those with a high IQ but low EQ and SQ. Most schools capitalize on improving IQ levels while EQ and SQ are played down (which is a fucking lie, but keep going - MJ).
A man of high IQ can end up being employed by a man of high EQ and SQ even though he has an average IQ (In other words, you'll end up working for a popular, lying dumb-ass).
Your EQ represents your Character, while your SQ represents your Charisma. Give in to habits that will improve these three Qs, especially your EQ and SQ.
Now there is a 4th one, a new paradigm:
4. The Adversity Quotient (AQ): The measure of your ability to go through a rough patch in life, and come out of it without losing your mind.
When faced with troubles, AQ determines who will give up, who will abandon their family, and who will consider suicide.
Parents please expose your children to other areas of life than just Academics. They should adore manual labour (never use work as a form of punishment), Sports and Arts.
Develop their IQ, as well as their EQ, SQ and AQ. They should become multifaceted human beings able to do things independently of their parents.
Finally, do not prepare the road for your children. Prepare your children for the road.
The End.
She isn't serious. She can't be, but what truly noble delusions she has. Then reality sets in like a chainsaw.
If you believe what you read, the official average IQ is 100. Anything below 80 is sub-human (I think Chimpanzees are around 70, porch monkeys at 75, Democrats are 76). Genius level is 145 and higher. Solid genius is 150. Now me, having been tested and retested by an elite cadre of awestruck educational professionals quite early in my train wreck of a life, I'm around 110. Likely 110, maybe 115 on a good day. That means I'm just smart enough to know when I'm going to get hosed, but not smart enough to know how to avoid it.
My EQ, the ability to keep the peace with others (or something similar) is off the scale, mainly because the scale doesn't go into negative numbers. Maintain peace? Respect boundaries? Give me a fucking break.
Now my SQ, my innate ability to build a network of friends and maintain it, fluctuates constantly with the state of my financial success or lack thereof. You want to know if you've got any real friends? Just party until your money runs out, and you'll find 'em.
Then there's my AQ, my Adversity Quotient. It's off the charts in the other direction. I'm not all that bright, I can't keep the peace with the other idiots I'm forced to share the world with, and I spend most of my time either broke or badly bent. If my AQ wasn't off the charts high, I'd have shot myself and hit entropy sixty-five years back. As it is, I'm a whiskey drinking gun owner with a bad disposition.
Can you blame me?
Crap like this gets on my very last nerve.
I'll tell you one thing about Russia - they don't fuck around over there. Over here in the United States we have civil rights which includes the almighty eighth. It's probably not good for us, but the founding fathers thought it had merit, and maybe back then it did.
Amendment VIII
Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.
WNBA star Brittney Griner has been transferred to a Russian penal colony after being sentenced to nine years in prison for allegedly possessing cannabis oil, according to the Associated Press.Griner was moved from a detention center on November 4, according to her legal team, but they do not know where the penal colony she will be transferred to is located.
Yeah, Vlad? Yeah, it's me. Oh, fine, fine... couldn't be better! You? <pause> Say Vlad, you know that big jungle bunny you got over there? Black rug muncher, busted her on hash oil. Yeah, plays B-Ball. Yeah, I know all B-Ball players are black... yeah, I know white men can't jump. No, I can't jump either... look, Vlad, I gotta get her back. What'll you take for her? <pause> Okay, but I want the spook too. Sure, I can do that. Are you thinking a couple months? More? <pause> I don't really care. Make her appreciate the U.S. a little more, maybe. <pause> Okay, thanks Vlad. Best to what's her name and the kids. Click
Getting right to the point, LawDog, he of the The Lawdog Files, is being railroaded. I got this from the Old NFO on his little slice of information here: LawDog Raffle Items. The deal is that a pile of nice gear is being raffled off to help cover LawDog's expenses, and trust me when I say that these expenses could be extremely significant.
Shortening the news to one paragraph that everyone reading this hound can understand, LawDog's real name is Ian Hugh McMurtrie, and up until recently he was employed by the Texas Wichita County Sheriff's Department in various capacities, achieving the rank of lieutenant. The 'Dog got into a dust up with a large prisoner and subdued him. Given that the prisoner was large, strong, and an experienced brawler, plus was under the influence of an interesting cocktail of controlled substances, I'd say a hickory massage was justified, and I'd combine that with bear repellent and a cattle prod. Ian didn't, but he did get the prisoner subdued, and the prisoner never filed any complaints about his treatment. The sheriff doesn't see it that way.
Read more here, at Former Deputy Reindicted for Allegedly “fish Hooking” Inmate by Larry Statser as published on July 23, 2022.
From the article: As the inmate was being booked into jail, Wichita County Sheriff David Duke said the inmate was creating a disturbance, and McMurtrie responded.
The rumor here is that Sheriff David Duke holds an elected position, and is afraid that Ian McMurtrie will run against him - and win. So, eliminate the competition.
My disclaimer is this. I don't know Ian McMurtrie, AKA LawDog. I've never met him in person, and I've only read him a few times on his blog. I bought one or two of his books and read them, and based on that I probably wouldn't go out drinking with the man. He strikes me as being a bit arrogant and something of a blow-hard. That said, he should not be railroaded - which is what is happening to him.
The man has worked over twenty years in law enforcement, and you don't last that long by abusing people. He's done a good job for the community, and so - buy a ticket. Use the link here:
My thanks to everyone for reading.
This happened back in the '90s when I was living with Main Lady and Excellent Rachmaninoff in quaint, historical Lincoln Woods up in Sylvania, Ohio.
It's Halloween and Main Lady has maternal instincts that kick in like an alarm clock on Monday morning. I'm hep to this and so I'm on my best behavior. I buy six pounds of candy at the store and a large sack of apples, then I open the front door and install a baby gate to keep the little trick-or-treaters on the good side of the foyer; I tie the dog to something so he can't get over the gate and savage the little darlings into six lawsuits and a SWAT team standoff - which he'd like to do. The dog hated children. He loved his family, but some people, like, for instance, Main Lady's sister, he didn't like at all. In point of fact he actually bit the sister...
So the dog barks, and Main Lady and I hand out candy and make cute comments about the little kids at the gate. I was bored, so I had a whiskey.
A kid comes to the gate all on his own. He's about eight or ten, but he's one of these tall, goofy types whose coordination hasn't caught up to his height. He's dressed like the devil, horns, tail, red costume and all. I walk over with the candy bucket in my hand.
"Look, it's the devil himself," I say in a stentorian voice, "Well shake hands - I've married your sister!"
I shake hands with the kid and I can hear his father laughing like hell out on the sidewalk.
Main Lady gave me the silent treatment for a while, but I didn't mind.
That's how I spent Halloween.
I'm a believer in the effectiveness of the ubiquitous flu shot. I get the senior version because I qualify for it - as of October 2nd, I am 70 years old. I have no idea just how or why I made it this far, but here we all are.
So, getting right to the fucking point, here's what happened.
Just about the time that the Defund the Police movement starts running out of fuel and the commercial news media had nothing better to write about except the mysterious disappearance of Kiely Rodni (who has since been found, but no one will admit it as of this writing), a complete and total asshole down in Florida who is wearing a gun and a badge he should never in a million years been issued pulls a boneheaded stunt that could easily have blown up into the next Civil (rights) War II.
Be forewarned and keep reading - or not.
In a moment of temporary insanity and half-in-the-bag boredom, I signed up for Nextdoor. It's a social media site that is supposed to carry local news and human interest stories as generated by the moonbats, wingnuts, and fatheads who use it.
Consider yourself warned and keep reading.
I gotta say, if you're looking for a real howl or two, something to really cheer up your day, you need go no further than Knuckledraggin' my life away... This time a few contributors are coming up with alternate names for Monkeypox - and boy howdy, there are some real winners out there.
Click and read at your own risk: Knuckledraggin My Life Away - A Rose by any other name.....
My congratulations to Wirecutter, host of Knuckledraggin'. Here's a tip of the old fedora and a hoist of the evening bourbon glass to you, sir. You've raised the bar again.Reading through the news, AKA the crap-o-sphere, then reading through the insights (generally questionable) and the opinions on the blog-o-sphere, I have come to the conclusion that I have no conclusion - yet.
I graduated high school in 1970, and in my class was a fine young man whom we'll call Scott, mainly because that's his name. Scott has a PhD and is a regular contributor to Psychology Today, which is not terribly surprising as he's a LIBERAL with an executive membership card and the official thermos and lunchbox.
A good friend of mine who shall remain nameless has a FB account. Upon reading one article that Scott wrote, he pondered the significance for about ten minutes before he was distracted by a naked woman running around his front yard holding a For Rent sign.
One way or another, Scott was encouraged to write a follow-up article, and did so, which my friend also read. Instead of ignoring the entire business, he wrote a response, posted it, and a few hours later discovered that Scott had deleted his thoughtful missive and blocked him on FB. He was surprised - I wasn't.
So, for your amusement, here we go: The FaceBook Fiasco
Columbus is having an outdoor fireworks display and accompanying festival this year. Red, White, and Boom has been down for the past two years due to the Wuhan Flu and governmental lies and overreaction, but now it's back with a vengeance. Wha-hoo.
So I'm slurping my morning coffee like a stupe and staring at the idiot box for my daily dose of propaganda, but my attention span is far too fragmented for this to last.
Squirrel!
By now virtually everyone has heard that the United States Supreme Court has struck down Roe v. Wade and passed this particular live grenade to the States. I think we've got an election coming up in the near future, but my memory isn't what it should be.
We passed the first day of summer a few nights back, and downtown Columbus, Ohio is a zoo. Events are already scheduled - music, artsy-fartsy stuff, heaven only knows what else - and now we're getting protesters. Some of these idiots are promising a violent protest, for whatever good that will do. Anyway, I'll see what happened in the news tomorrow morning. I'm thinking it's going to be the usual, complete with teargas and cops in riot gear.
I predicted Monday on this one. I was, as usual, dead wrong.
The word on the street is that the United States Supreme Court will issue a new ruling on the (in)famous Roe v. Wade case on Monday, June 27, 2022. The racket you hear in the background is not the peanut gallery; it's the exploding heads of SJWs and Moonbats everywhere.
It's enough to make any red-blooded Texan stomp his heels and spit into the wind.
For my part, I'm keeping my own counsel and staying inside. The SJWs are going to be hot as a five dollar pistol on Saturday night over this one, and Antifa is looking for another payday. My money's on the Right, because they have the guns.
All that said, so far this is only a rumor, and kind of thin at that. The story got leaked by an anonymous source to the commercial news media (and all you guys believe everything you read in the paper - right?) No one will disclose the source, and the USSC isn't talking too much about this little faux pas to anyone. No surprise there, but still and all, I'd expect a hot denial and a promise of retribution to the effect of we're going to fire everyone. But it's dead quiet.
So we'll see what pops.
I've been a lot of things in my life, but I've never been a light-in-the-loafers cigar smoker, a short eyes, or an SJW (Social Justice Warrior). I've known a few SJWs, and generally don't get along well with them.
I thought I was a normal, average, hard drinking, woman chasing, gun owning, red-blooded American male, but now I'm not so sure.
Today is Jefferson Davis birthday.
Oh, I wish I was in the land of cottonOld times there are not forgotten
I enjoy reading the Old NFO. He's a good sort, and a reasonably honest soul. He has a friend, Ian McMurtrie, on FuckedUpBook who falls into the same classification. I'd cheerfully go out drinking with both or either of them. So today, for no good reason, I'm picking on Ian - who doesn't deserve it.
The final invoices are in for my extended vacation in Hell with the lid off. You can read about it here and here. The short list of invoices for various services rendered amount to:
Total Unmodified Amount: $104,130.91
Insurance / Medicare: $99,894.50
Other Adjustments: $1,898.26
Amount Out of My Mattress: $2,338.15
While two and a half long isn't chump change, it's a hundred gees away from what hell's parlor wants. This, by the way, is not a plea for money or anything similar. I'll cover the debt.
My deal is that the whole thing cost a hundred grand and change, and it just isn't worth it.
Note: Someone actually took this question and my answer seriously. I had to read it twice before I believed it actually happened.
In 1928 we were still moving freight across the ocean by means of renewable energy, commonly know as a sailing vessel. I forget just where I found this You-Hoo video, but it's the first video I've found that I believe is worth watching.
Except that there is a way home, which completely destroys the one thing about this hound that would offer a silver lining.
Spoilers and non-PC opinions beneath the fold. Read at your own risk, etc.
On my fourth day in Hell with the lid off I was visited by three young ladies, all of whom were wearing a hijab (hi-jahb). They all smiled and spoke to me in English that was so heavily accented I couldn't understand a word they said. Drug-induced intrigue led me to ask where they were from, and again I couldn't understand them.
Those few of you who may have been wondering just where I've been and why, prepare to be enlightened. The rest of you can try thinking without moving your lips.
On Friday, March 18, 2022 at or around 7:30 PM, I started having severe pain in my lower abdomen. The pain escalated as the minutes rolled by, so I asked my neighbor Nancy to drop whatever she was doing and take me to the ER. She agreed, providing I didn't do anything freaky in her car - bleed, barf, die... the usual.
By the time we made the ER, the pain was a solid 8 (scale of 1-10). I got to the check in desk, and my stomach issued my dinner a return to sender. I got triaged and told they couldn't give me any medication until a room opened up, and they didn't know when that would happen.
So I sat in my wheelchair in the ER waiting room, in the most intense agony I've ever felt, for five hours. Nancy kept me company.
Once the wait was over they got me in a room and shot me full of pain medication, which took the pain down to level 5. After a few tests, the diagnosis was Acute biliary pancreatitis without infection or necrosis. Go look it up; it's what I did. The cure was to remove my gallbladder, so surgery was scheduled. Not right away though, as my pancreas was acting up and everything was put on hold until the wretched thing settled down.
So it's off to a hospital room to wait.
I was ensconced in Mount Carmel East Hospital, Columbus, Ohio, and had my surgery on March 24; discharged on March 25.
Let me tell you something: Mount Carmel East Hospital, in Columbus, Ohio, is Hell with the lid off. No food, no water; only ice to eat. I wasn't allowed a shower, and not allowed to clean my teeth. I had a choice between a bed made of iron rods and a four inch thick foam mattress, or a chair that was marginally better. The noise level precluded sleep. Various machines kept going off with a loud screech, and the summon help button was only somewhat softer. The staff ignored the machines. Eventually I learned that if I yelled for help loud and long enough, someone would show up and let me know that I was an annoyance they'd rather not deal with.
I learned to sleep for two hour intervals, but then the nightmares started. By day five, these dreams had transcended from the usual bad dreams we all get into the real screamers that you can't remember.
I finally got my surgery, woke up, and was treated to the news that they were keeping me one day for observation. Whatever.
In the middle of all this I had a heart problem involving arrhythmia, so now I've got some nice new pills to take.
But I'm alive, and that's all I've got the energy to say right now.
This evening, as I was about to enjoy my first martini, I noticed a very odd sight outside my back patio fence.
If you want to read the beginning of what I hope will be a truly great story, point your browser at The Boys’ Club - Prologue, as written by that bad-tempered stumbling block to all things civilized in left field, the lovable old misanthrope, Glen Filthy. Glen's written a few blurbs before, but nothing half so good as this one.
I didn't think he'd do it, but I was wrong. You may want to make note of this date, because it's one of the very few times I've been wrong about something and admitted it. Usually there's extenuating circumstances that affected my less than accurate statements, but this time I was just plain incorrect.
Because, you see, on Monday, March 14th, 2022, Gov. Mike DeWine signed Senate Bill 215 into law, which means that the law abiding, freedom loving, gun owners of Ohio no longer need a license to carry a concealed weapon.
Continue reading for a few valuable links and commentary. Stop reading if you're a precious little snowflake with a sensitive nature.
Being at loose ends, I made the mistake of reading the local news. My sawbones recommends that I either stop reading crap like this, or start taking blood pressure medication - and he doesn't mean hundred proof gin. I know, because I suggested it.
Keep reading for a rant and a question.
On January 13th, 2014, Curtis Reeves shot and killed Chad Oulson with a .380 automatic pistol. On February 25th, 2022, a jury of six found Curtis Reeves not guilty. I wrote about the event here, shortly after it happened. I've been watching this event ever since, waiting for the trial. There were delays, more delays, legalistic chicanery, and finally - fianlly! - we get a trial.
8 years, 1 month, and 11 days after Oulson cashed in his chips, a jury of six spineless idiots found Curtis Reeves not guilty of Murder II in Tampa, Florida. I'm less than thrilled with this verdict.
Keep reading as it amuses you to do so.
I got this story from Wirecutter, over at Knuckle Draggin' My Life Away. I read his blog on an irregular basis, and consider him to be a truly erudite writer, if somewhat philosophically abstruse. I usually ponder his disquisitions for several days before venturing a comment. That being the case, before I continue I recommend that anyone who considers themselves to be a progressive, liberal, avant-garde reformist go over (electronically speaking) to the Wirecutter's blog and settle in for a decent read - after you've finished perusing my latest contribution to the hoi polloi.
This one goes out to Capt. Schmoe, who is a retired fire fighter and runs the blog Report on Conditions. He's a good photographer and I enjoy his commetary as he's usually right about most things.
We're in the midst of the holiday season, and the cops in Columbus are getting serious about this drinking and driving business. I don't know where the funding came from (MADD? SADD?), but the Columbus Police Department have the checkpoint DUI road blocks up and are running them in full force.
I got bored last night and decided to take a short drive over to the Derby East. I had a hard cider, then another, and the crowd was getting warmed up. Then someone bought a round of shots for everyone sitting at the bar, then another round was bought, and I chased it with another hard cider, and... I realized I probably shouldn't be driving.
I left my keys with the bartender, and took the bus home.
I passed a police checkpoint about a block away. Everyone was being stopped and harassed, and they had a wagon out to haul away the drunks. There was a line being cuffed and stuffed into the wagon. But, you know, they just waved the bus right on through.
This is the official Merry Christmas! and Happy New Year! post. This happens roughly once per year.
To all the people who paused long enough to read this hound, Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!
To all of you who commented (including that infamous little lamb chop, Baked Brie) here's a hoist of my New Year's Eve champagne glass and a tip of the old fedora to you - thank you for your comments.
I won't post it, mainly out of an inability to take selfies, but while making my morning coffee I was doing my happy dance.
Mad Jack: 1
Mouse: room temperature (by now)
Zero. As in null, nada, none, and go piss up a rope.
I got up in the morning and ran the old trap line, and the traps were still set but the bait was gone.
Rant follows. Read at your own risk.
In the not terribly distant past I had a security team. Proven in battle, patient in ambush, and congenial in most other respects. Sadly, they've all retired and gone the way of the passenger pigeon, the dodo bird, and the woolly mammoth.
I have decided to set a trap line. I have two traps, which is all I could find in my toolz-and-whatnot drawer.
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| Trap 1 |
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| Trap 2 |
On a whim, I tried looking at FaceBook this morning and got 404'd. I figured that they'd finally had enough of me and canceled my account, but then common sense asserted itself. If Mark Zuckerberg hasn't permanently banned Wirecutter, Owner-Operator of Knuckledraggin' My Life Away, it's a sure bet that neither he nor his staff are going to bother with me. So, a little investigation is needed - Ah-Ha!
It seems that FaceBook is not alone. Instagram is toast, as is WhatsApp, Messenger, and likely others that we aren't seeing here because they are big and important enough.
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| Downdetector |
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| The Verge |
What bothers me about all this is that these are major social media sites, and I would think they'd be able to protect themselves. One site, maybe it's an inside job. More than one is an attack, or in this case, a successful attack. I wonder what else is down that we haven't heard of?
I was born on Thursday, October 2nd, 1952, at or around 5:30 AM. I'm 69 years old, which is 25,203 days, and right now I can feel every single day of it.
I'm finally losing weight, which is nice, but I'm running out of energy. I just don't have it. I'm going to see if altering my diet somehow will help.
So, for my birthday, good old Migraine One called. She's still in California (give thanks for that little detail), and she's still married, and now she's back living with her husband again. I don't know how long the Titanic will float, but hope springs eternal. Or something. Anyway, she wished me a happy birthday, then dumped her train wreck of a life all over my floor. Evidently her health problems are getting worse, leaving her bed ridden for the past three days. She says she has fibromyalgia, which is a disease that is commonly treated with pills and wine. Reading up on fibromyalgia syndrome, I discovered that it's a condition of the brain, which causes the brain to amplify pain from other sources. So, for instance, when you're on your way to the can to take your two o'clock piss and step on a Lego in your bare feet, instead of just swearing and maybe turning on the light, you'd hit the deck and roll back and forth until the agony goes away. About 1 in 25 people worldwide have fibromyalgia, but women are ten times more likely to get it than men. I'm thinking this has something to do with sanity, but I may be wrong.
I went to the range today with Big Mike and California Dave. I did pretty well, all things considered. I got a chance to test fire my Ruger LCP II, and it really shoots nicely. I was able to hit stuff with it, and turned in a respectable group. Big Mike shot his M1, which I wrote about here. The rifle shoots as good as it looks, and that's saying something.
Later on tonight we're headed out to a four star restaurant for dinner. I may do a little restaurant review on the place.
My thanks to all of you for reading, and a hoist of the evening bourbon glass and a tip of the old fedora to anyone leaving a comment that says something more than Happy Birthday!
Yesterday we made plans to go to the range today, and since the range opens at 9:00 AM and it's a 45 minute drive to the range from Big Mike's house, and it's a half hour drive from my place to Big Mike's, that means that yours truly had to drag his ragged ass out of bed at the unholy hour of 7:00 AM.
Here's what I saw on my way out.
The following pictures and commentary will be offensive to some, but not to others. Tolerance is a feature that I don't enjoy. Read at your own risk. Trigger warning - and I'm not talking about Roy Rogers horse.
No lie. I wrote about him in Neighbor Problems Part LXXII.IX , and after a short vacation in the Happy House, he's back.
I wrote about the death of Olivia Kurtz here, and haven't heard a thing since. Now Columbus has the FBI involved, and the CPD has managed to retrieve the video from the local security cameras around the site of the shooting, and the FBI is offering $25,000 to anyone who can help solve this crime.
From NBC news:
FBI offering $25,000 reward in shooting death of teen at Bicentennial Park
According to police, on May 22, Olivia Kurtz, 16, was shot during a private event that was promoted on social media at the amphitheater along the Scioto Mile. The shooting also left multiple other teens injured.
Police said the event did not have a permit from the city and that the park was closed at the time of the shooting.
From another news story here, we learn that multiple calls to 9-1-1 regarding excessive noise are ignored.
The rest of the news amounts to the same thing. The cops don't have a clue, which is not surprising and which I'm not finding any fault with. Sure, someone, someplace, saw something, but if that someone hasn't snatched up a phone and put in for the twenty-five large by now, it ain't happenin'. My hard spot with the whole business is this.
The park, Bicentennial Park, was closed. No events were scheduled, and the park hadn't been rented by anyone. Complaints about the noise and the antics of an increasing number of unsupervised youth were increasing, along with (I'll presume) the vitriol delivered along with the complaint.
The police said they couldn't do a damn' thing about it, and that just isn't true. Had the cops applied a healthy dose of good old fashioned police work starting at 6:00 PM, the shooting wouldn't have happened. Olivia Kurtz, who really was an honor student, would very likely still be alive.
I blame the top brass of the CPD, the incompetent mayor of Columbus, Ohio, and the fatheads that staff the Columbus City Council. While I'm at it, I'll blame the city manager as well, but mainly I blame the mayor and the CPD top brass. If you people, and I mean that in an offensive, derogatory fashion, had done your job the way it should be done, this wouldn't have happened. Now all you've got is a wish in one hand and hopes of a fraudulently stuffed ballot box in the other.
It was only a matter of time.
I live in the south-east corner of Columbus, Ohio, adjacent to a minor thoroughfare provincially named Machine Gun Alley. From time to time I hear shots fired, and on New Years' Eve, promptly at midnight, the locals cut loose with a volley that sounded like the opening salvo for Civil War Two, or the War of Moonbat Agression. I've also written about The Midnight Shooter, who I haven't heard from in a while. I hope he's okay.
I'm digressing. Continue as it amuses you to do so, with the usual warnings about politically insensitive opinions, facts, and racial stereotypes.
Stumbling into something resembling consciousness, I cleared the delirium from whatever passes for my mind these days and by luck rather than skill, found my way to my kitchenette. I put the go-go juice together and set the coffee pot to percolating, then bravely look out the window to check on the weather and other things. Maybe I've been transported to an alternate reality or something.
Wellnow, would you just look at this?
Those of you who pay attention, read this hound on a semi-regular basis, and haven't had their memory completely altered by booze and fast women may remember that in my little slice of Heaven lives a neighbor who is, charitably speaking, sub-par for the area.
I wrote about him in Neighbor Problems. Well, a few days back the mischievous little Caliban got his dick in a wringer, and I think he's been relocated.
Keep reading to see what happened.
I'm sick. I fell like six feet of worn out carpet. And no, I don't think that it's the C word.
I tried for an appointment with my favorite witch doctor, and was asked if I'd be satisfied with a telephone visit. Sure, why not?
At the appointed hour Dr. Muay calls me and tells me I sound sick. Well, really now. I bite off a somewhat pithy rejoinder (after all, Dr. Muay is actually a good sort, and he's trying to help me) and tell him what's wrong, which is mainly a sore throat which showed up the day after I had my root canal.
Anyone got $1,500 they don't need or want? If so, send it to me. Note that I'm not bothering to list my mailing address - I know you bums too well.
Along with the sore throat I'm having trouble swallowing. When I try and eat something, a portion of the thoroughly masticated content gets diverted into my nasal cavity, where it resides until I choke it out and down the hatch. Try that with BW3 hot wings and see what happens. By the time I spoke with Dr. Muay, I was on a liquid only diet. This isn't as bad as it seems, as I have protein powder, a stick blender, and the ingredients for a milkshake.
But I still can't swallow anything remotely solid. Added to that is the fact that I'm one of those people with a heightened gag reflex (one reason I'd make a lousy faggot) and I have a great deal of trouble taking pills. Part of this is mental - I have a foreign substance in my mouth that isn't food and should not be taken internally - and part physical (gag reflex).
Dr. Muay nixes the C Amoxicillin 500 MG tablets that my endodontist prescribed, and calls in a prescription for Amoxicillin and Clavulanate Potassium Tablets, USP, 875mg / 125mg. My drug dispensary of choice got busted last week, so I use my alternate: Walgreens. I give it an hour, and Walgreens Pharmacy admits to having my prescription ready. Well, hot damn.
Now keep in mind that I have trouble taking pills anyway, and right now it's impossible for me to reliably swallow anything except a liquid. So I pick it up. And...
Repeat after me: The government would never lie to me, a mere civilian, about something as important as a vaccination for the killer disease severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), AKA COVID-19.
Then I made the mistake of listening to this man, who is a medical doctor and has been to school and stuff.
Read at your own risk. The author of this blog is not responsible and is a known opinionated something-ist who likes fast cars and faster women.
Note: The social media site hosting the video has shut it down for reasons best known to any intelligent person over the age of four. I'm posting a link to a page that offers superior coverage of the speech and story.
I drove up to Wisconsin to visit old Shotgun Bob over the fourth. His family lives a bit off the beaten path, as do the rest of the people in Rice Lake (Pop. 8,419). I found it relaxing.
We went to two fireworks displays, one in Rice Lake, another in nearby Shell Lake (Pop. 1,300). The people were nice and courteous to each other. Children didn't tear around shrieking and screaming. Likewise the adults kept their conversations to themselves. Pedestrians and traffic mixed easily.
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| Rice Lake |
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| Shell Lake |
You know what I didn't see?
Before the censors take this digital rag off their platform on the grounds of immorality, I'd like to get one more provocative, insulting, and emotionally stimulating question out there. Unfortunately I can't take credit for this one, but I wish I'd thought of it.
I was wasting time over at Filthie's Thunderbox (Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted) and was reading his missive You Didn’t Build That…. when I stumbled across this little gem in the comments section posted by an idle reader calling himself Stuart (no first name, no middle initial), who claims to be from Louisiana but is probably from South Dakota or someplace.
Before we go any further, heed the standard disclaimer: Not for the weak of heart or those with a thin skin. Missives posted by your host Mad Jack are for entertainment purposes only, and any insults are deliberate and delivered with conviction. Only two sexes are recognized; male and female. Continue at your own risk, and don't say we didn't warn you.
Hey Mad Jack, what day is it?
You have to ask? Today, the fourteenth day of July in the year of Our Lord two-thousand twenty-and-one, is National Nude Day.
Anyone unfortunate enough to have seen me in the buff in the past, oh, say, thirty years, is not going to want to see a naked photo of me now. That's not we're about here at the Shack. What we want are red hot female hotties who are busy celebrating National Nude Day. I'm confident that a cursory search of the Internet will turn up a few interesting photos for both men and women - the only two sexes I recognize.
So if you're the sort that we'd all like to see, don't hesitate to strip down to your beautiful smile and take a few selfies, which you can post somewhere and send me the link to. Or, if you're the shy type, just send your celebratory efforts to MadJackRacham (@) gmail (dot) com.
Here's how!
I'm religious. I cheerfully admit to being a born again Christian. I am also a work in progress.
All that said, I've often wondered just why the Lord doesn't take a more active role in the various activities in our world - then something like this happens.
I live across the street from a Dollar General. It hasn't closed down as yet, in spite of the blatant shoplifting that goes on there. Last time I was in the store, I watched a 20-something female walk out with a fully laden basket of merchandise - and the cashier said nothing.
I spoke with a young cashier some months back, a 20-something man of average athletic ability, who had pursued a shoplifter, caught the thief, and retrieved the stolen merchandise. The district manager gave him a reprimand instead of a medal. But I guess that's the way things work.
Today I needed a greeting card, so I got my ragged old self dressed for civilization, then debated taking my pistol. I'm only going across the street. What could happen to me? Besides, I'm wearing nylon pants and the pistol tends to print. And, well...
These days I'm heeled wherever I go, and that includes inside my own home. Because you just don't know what's coming at you over the rise.
I got this from the Prehistoric Naval Flight Officer, who highly recommended it. As usual, he's understated the video content.
Have you ever had to deal with a public school board? Have any of you ever met the conceited fatheads who are supposed to be serving on the school board, and keeping the best interests of the students and parents somewhere near the top of their list of priorities?
Ever considered... never mind.
Like Old NFO, I rarely post a video, but this one is rare. Note the delivery as well as the content.
My thanks to Joe, Kamala. If fuel wasn't so expensive, I might be able to spend that excess money on food, shelter, or clothing.
But since I'm an ancient white boomer - it don't fuckin' matter.
I read Sarah A. Hoyt every so often. Usually I just take a look at what she's written and skim it. Sarah is a prolific writer with an I.Q. that's a solid 40 points above average (maybe more in these diverse days) and an education that far surpasses anything you can get inside most classrooms in the U.S. of A. With all that, she's often a bit deep for me. I'm more of a Fred Reed sort. All that being the case, Sarah hit an infield homer the other day. I've been meaning to write about it, but I got sidetracked somehow.
So here we go, complete with the standard disclaimer.
Today I was picking up a few items at the Dollar General across the street from my home. While I'm standing in line a teenager and her boyfriend walk out the door with a full hand-basket of items. They didn't pay for anything and the clerk wouldn't pursue them or demand payment.
We now have Olivia Kurtz and Ty-Sean Finch, both of whom are on the dark side of the lawn. No arrests have been made.
Standard disclaimer: The thin-skinned, SJWs, or members of any racist civil rights group should take one milligram of Xanax and wait thirty minutes before continuing.
I grew up in the 1960s and remember a few events with clarity. The Cuban missile crises, the civil rights riots in major cities, the desegregation busing, the voting rights laws, the protesting by college students who screamed about the inherently evil establishment while being supported by their parents... these were turbulent times.
We also had the Weathermen, the White Panthers, and the Black Panthers, all of who were violent groups. Now we have this crap, and I'm beginning to wonder if there's some truth to organized violence on the horizon.
We've got another one on the dark side of the lawn in Columbus, Ohio. I'm using this shooting as an example of what happens in the city of Columbus, Ohio's State capital.
Standard disclaimer and warning: There are no microaggressions here. I'm moving right along to blatant insults and racial slurs.
To begin with, I'm frustrated. I'm assembling a novel, and the pieces don't fit - and they should. I started around 9:00 AM and gave up at 11:00 AM EST. I decided to go for a bike ride.
Standard disclaimer. I'm not looking for sympathy, which I can find on my own and we all know where. I'm telling anyone who cares to read about it that I'm having a really crappy day. My detractors, such as Migraine One and her SJW friends, will love reading about this one.
I enjoy reading Glen Filthie over at Filthie's Thunderbox (Where Great Intelligence Goes To Be Insulted). Given the specified parameters, don't ask me what I'm doing there.
The other day (Wednesday, May 19th, 2021) Glen posted a rambling, disorganized, but somewhat cogent missive on government expenditures, government funded benefits, and howler monkeys during mating season.
I found his missive inspiring, and so posted a reply.
I was so impressed with my own efforts (I'd been drinking), that I copied my short essay, did some judicious editing, and posted it here. Read it as it amuses you to do so, with the usual warning and disclaimer - void where prohibited, no deposit no return, the sleeves will ride up with wear, and thin skinned SJWs and affiliated moonbats should be offended to the point of mandatory psychiatric treatment.
I often read Peter Grant, the Bayou Renaissance Man. Peter is a man I'd call well read and well traveled, and I respect his opinion.
However-comma...
Keep reading if you like, with the usual caveats about mileage and sleeve length, and the customary warning to thin-skinned politically correct moonbats, SJWs, and various other left-wing organizations.
I wrote about the Ma’khia Bryant shooting yesterday, then I found an update today which justifies the use of deadly force by officer Nicholas Reardon, courtesy of Resist The Mainstream.
In the latest news, Derek Chauvin has been found guilty of unintentional second-degree murder, third-degree murder and second-degree manslaughter in the death of George Floyd, so now we can all go home. Right?
Or confusion and death, as the case may be.
This isn't news, however it's a starting point. On April 11th, 2021, Daunte Demetrius Wright was pulled over for a moving violation - expired plates and an object dangling from his rear-view mirror (an air freshener, not that it matters). Both of these are illegal in the State of Minnesota. The arresting officers ran his license and discovered that Daunte Demetrius Wright had a warrant out for his arrest. They (being three police officers, one young male, one elderly looking male, and one middle aged female) put the perpetrator under arrest. Not wanting to go to jail, Daunte resisted the arrest and got loose, then got into the driver's cabin of his car. Officer Kimberly Potter shot him - one shot, one discharge from her sidearm. Daunte managed to drive about 500 yards or so before his car crashed. Not surprising as he'd bled out and was DRT.
Now the fun starts.
I'm in crises.
I don't open my gun safe all that often, and the other day I idly wondered if I actually remembered the combination, then I wondered just where the combination was written down (not inside the safe, and I could do with fewer comments and less laughter from the peanut gallery), and so I found the combination and opened the safe.
Rust has attacked a few firearms.
Having recovered enough to actually do something about it besides kick myself for being an absolute idiot, my questions are:
1. What's the best way to remove rust from a firearm?
2. What's the best way to prevent this kind of thing from happening again? Keep the humidity low inside the safe, sure - but how to do that?
My thanks to everyone who knows an answer and responds.
The shoulder doesn't hurt, but I'm still slightly disoriented - enough so that I have to write things down.
Now I note that I have a list of things to do today, and so will get busy. When I think of it.
Hey! Wanna get high?
I got my second COVID vaccination on 3/24. Moderna, if it matters, and it probably does. The side effects yesterday were a bit unusual.
I got the shot, waited requisite 15 minutes to make sure I wasn't going to keel over, ululate, or projectile vomit and choke to death on my own vomitus. I drove home, and about halfway there realized I was a bit disoriented. By the time I got home I was disoriented to the point where I didn't think it wise to drive my car or play with my gun collection. I called Big Mike on the phone and it took me a while to remember why I'd called him - something about the streetlights being too bright to allow me to observe the occasional U.F.O. from my bedroom window.
I couldn't sleep. I finally got to sleep around 4:00 AM, and woke up at 9:30 in the morning - yes, it was that morning, as I checked the date. My arm aches a little and my head isn't completely clear. I plan to take it easy today.
I guess my point is that I'm not sick or anything. Yet.
I got the first shot of a two shot series on February 24th, 2021. The first shot shot gave me a three day hangover. Not a bad hangover, just a long one.
Today, March 24th, 2021, at 10:00 AM, I got my second shot. It hurt like hell, and I've been slightly disoriented all day. My arm no longer hurts, but I'm having a good deal of trouble concentrating or remembering just what it is I'm supposed to be doing.
We'll see what tomorrow brings.
Tags: SARS-CoV-2 (severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2); severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2)
I was born in 1952, with a few defects - exercised induced bronchial asthma (which no one knew anything about) and severe allergies. I haven't gotten over either one of them, although I now have better living through chemistry. I, however, had advantages that other children didn't have - mainly a mother who qualified for sainthood, and a maternal grandmother who taught me the advantages of being able to write.
Seeing this pic, I started thinking about the hardships of those early years.
