Okay, this is nuts...

I can't take credit for finding this one, and maybe that's just as well.  This story was passed along to me by Big Mike, and I cannot, for the life of me, imagine just how he stumbled across it.  He doesn't smoke pot or imbibe in any other hallucinogens.

Imagine you're going to college.  You're going to get an education that will be the ticket to a specialty - PhD, MD, ADD, whatever, that comes with benefits and a big ticket salary.  Which you'll need in order to pay off the loans you wish you'd never taken out to pay for college in the first place, and then there's your college educated wife's student loans, and the lease on the SUV, and her car, the Tesla, needs new batteries, and she's pregnant - again.  And to make matters worse...

You learn that your beer-swilling buddy from High School, the one who told the school councilor, "No, Mister Champion, you're the lucky one.  You can kiss my ass and I can't."  Yeah, that guy.  He became an apprentice plumber, then a plumber, then opened his own shop, and now he has three guys working for him and it looks like his house is paid off.

All those years you were going to college, drinking beer, screwing co-eds (which is how you got married), sweating exams, and racking up thousands in tuition bills and student loans, your old buddy was happily going to work and watching his bank account grow, and his wife doesn't have a lot of crazy ideas about diversity, inclusion, and equity (DIE).

I don't know how I got here.  Okay, below the fold you'll find two courses that are, for real, offered at a real university.  No, it's not from The Onion.

The Proof is in The Shooting

Or not, as the case may be.  Cutting to the chase, I posted a brief, opinionated essay entitled  Packing Heat, and got a lecture on societal norms and morals from Glen Filthie.  Naturally I suggested that Glen go boil his head, but upon reflection I think my northern neighbor may have an insight worth listening to.

Consider these two bits of news from commercial media.  Be aware that my opinion is not modified to accommodate SJWs, special little snowflakes, anti-freedom liberals of any stripe, or weak-kneed, bull-dyke fearing, door knob sucking douche nozzles.

Packing Heat

Our family has always had a loaded gun or two in the house.  Ever since I was a little kid, I remember the old man telling me in his best no-nonsense voice that this was real, this was not, and you don't touch the real gun.

I only made one mistake back then, and I didn't get larruped for it - although I might have, and no one would have faulted the parent.  My best friend, whose family were also gun owners, and whose older brother was a gun owner, questioned whether or not my father owned a pistol.  So I showed it to him.  I didn't pick it up, and I'd have stopped him if he'd tried, but we all know what we all know.  My thinking was that he was my best friend, and so qualified as a family member.  The aspect that applied here was that Timmy was something of a dunderhead, which I didn't realize until I was much older.  His father didn't think he'd make it through adolescence, and so took out life insurance on him.  His poor mother acquired more gray hair from Timmy's shenanigans than anything else.  The kid would try to beat out cars when crossing the street - I once saw a dump truck driver slam on his brakes, and another time my father did the same thing, in our driveway no less.  Then he severed several tendons while carving a pumpkin, and a few years later blew himself up while he and a like-minded friend screwed around with Sterno and live ammo Timmy had borrowed from his older brother.  There were other escapades, but I don't think they altered his mental process much.

I've digressed, but that was then and this is now, and the things people do still aren't predictable.  Which is why I'm packing my gat with one up the pipe.

Keep reading with the usual disclaimer about anti-freedom zealots and overly sensitive Lefties.

Things Your Dad Never Told You

 I got this off an FB page, and reading through got me to reminiscing.  Evidently, whoever wrote this was thinking about Ward Cleaver or Ozzie Nelson.  This isn't the way things worked when I was growing up.

I was raised on a horse farm.  My parents had palomino show horses when I was growing up, and I learned how to ride.  I never liked it.  We had ten to fifteen horses, and guess who got to take care of them - yours truly, that's who.  I cleaned stalls, fed and watered them, and was the chief hot walker (see the expression rode hard and put away wet).  I also hauled sand and gravel in a wheelbarrow, chopped wood, did any number of odd jobs and chores.  This ten point meme got on my very last nerve, and inspired a reality check.  I don't know who had a father like the one described above, but I sure as hell didn't.

My reality is below the fold.

Noise That Makes Me Nuts

I caught this on Knuckledraggin' and liked it.  These days it doesn't take much to drive me right out of whatever remains of my mind, but rather than focusing on me (kind of like being fascinated by a train wreck), I'd like to hear from anyone reading this hound.

But first, a little background.  The scientific name for this condition (I read about it on the Internet so it really does exist) is Misophonia, sounds that make you bat shit crazy.  This could be pretty much anything, from the sound of the cat yowling for heaven only knows what, up to and including the budding musical genius next door who is learning to make noise with a bassoon.

Do you have a noise that you absolutely cannot stand?

For me it's boom cars, bad table manners, and eating while talking on the phone.  That last item is extremely offensive to me, and I won't tolerate it for any length of time.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 This is the obligatory holiday social amenity.  Happy Thanksgiving!  

Theories, Conspiracy Theories, and Amusing Fairy Tales

Sixty years ago today, President John Fitzgerald Kennedy (May 29, 1917 – November 22, 1963) was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald, who was shot to death shortly thereafter by Jack Leon Ruby (born Jacob Leon Rubenstein) (March 25, 1911 – January 3, 1967).  Ruby was arrested, tried, and convicted of murder, then appealed his conviction successfully, and granted a new trial, but died of cancer before he could be retried.  For his part, Oswald denied shooting anyone.

Keep reading for my own twisted opinions on Our Government, JFK, Ruby, and a host of other things.

White Teenager Beaten to Death

I was reading Knuckledraggin My Life Away when I tripped over a dangling participle left by one of his many contributors and found this article.  I'm disgusted and enraged.  Standard disclaimer will precede my rant.

If you're a sensitive, thin skinned liberal, go no further.  You'll only get your tender little feelings injured to the point that you may not heal up again - which is not a bad thing in my book.  Anyone else, keep reading.

Election Results November 7, 2023

For Columbus, and Ohio in general.  This is your official standard warning issue: If you are easily offended, don't read any further.  Surf over to Hello Kitty! and indulge in some mental self-abuse.

Happy Birthday Shoot - 2023

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.

Ding Dong!

 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...

Order Up!

 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.

My Sincere Apology

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.

Nine-Eleven, The Day After

Since everyone knows what happened on September 11^th, 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.

FREE BEER!

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.

Cheaper Than Dirt! The delivery...

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.

Psycho Chicks

 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.

Jimmie Vaughan - Review

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.

Homophobic or Not - You Be the Judge

 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.

Get Woke, Go Broke

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:

1. The manufacturer who brews this swill packages it and sells it (yeah, no shit Sherlock...) ahem! to a distributor, who then, in turn, takes the packaged product around to various retail outlets - stores, bars, whatever.  Why does it work this way?  Because, genius.
2. The distributor takes what the manufacturer sends him.  No, it's not supposed to work this way, but this is the way it works.  Again, because.  See?

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...