Thursday, March 23, 2006

Carnival of the Curmudgeons - Mark Eleven

I'm full of piss & vinegar tonite, as well as a horn or two of the Water of Life (Scots version). Loosens up the muse, don'tcha know. Fairly full day for this curmudgeon. Had to chase down an R/X for the upcoming Reality TV show, "Rivrdog's Ass", coming soon to a gastroenterology clinic near me. Live and in color, viewers will take a reality tour of my colon, and as an added attraction, watch the GI doc snip little parts of it off for lab analysis. Yours truly will be watching, live, and without the sedative they normally give (I want to be able to properly curse the doc if he does something stupid with the cutter head on that endoscope). Added bonus of being wide awake: if the doc re-opens the hole that bled badly in PHX a few weeks ago, I will get to aim the stream of ass-blood with malice aforethought! Anyway, the R/X is a substitute pain reliever for my back, as the docs suspended the one I've been using as it stops the blood from clotting. I guess I'm a hemophiliac by pharmaceuticals.

THAT means back to the range. Gotta be able to draw and hit the bad guy before he can shoot me, since I might not survive even a flesh wound, according to the docs. Speaking of range, isn't Buy A Gun Day about on us? Co-incides with Tax Day. I figgered it was, so I dropped by my local gun emporium to shop. Found one of these. They are in very short supply, and I got this one on layaway at 12% under MSRP. Nastiest little mouse gun around. Check out these ballistic specs on the .32NAA, a .380ACP necked down to .32 (7.65mm). Yes, the ammo is as rare as hound's teeth, and only Cor-Bon sells it, but yes, it's a mouse gun, not a battle rifle, so it's main advantage is to be surprise (that I pulled it out of my ass or wherever else I had it secreted) and IT STINGS! At 1200fps + and 200 ft/lbs energy, this ain't your mama's double-derringer in .41RF! 7 rounds as fast as I can cycle the trigger in DAO. Should make a mess out of the unfortunate goblin, and give him pause to reflect whilst I stuff in another six to finish his wretched ass off (he was still moving, Detective, and I KNEW he was going for his weapon).

Now, I'm wondering about the .32NAA. If I have a barrel built for my .380 Walther PP to shoot this little devil, I will have a 4" barrel to accelerate the little 60gr happy pills, and they will leave said barrel at ABOVE 1400ft/sec! The barrel will cost more than the PP is worth, but just think of the end result! Might be able to load something heavier than the 60gr JHP, maybe a 72gr JHP that would trot outa there at 1200fps, giving a muzzle energy in range of 9mm +P hot stuff! If I can find a BJHP, that round has the potential to be as damaging, IN A POCKET PISTOL, as any .40S&W. One might also carry a hot FMJ load that could give penetration THROUGH A CAR BODY!

The possibilities look endless. This is one where I have to save every spent hull, though, since I don't know when ammo production might cease. The wonders of wildcats.

On to the POTW (Peeve Of The Week).

The envelopes, please.

The first candidate is MY LAWN! The frogs are croaking, the temp is up to 60+ (heat wave), and the grass is growing even after dark (I can hear it scream from growing pains!). That means I will inaugurate the 20th SEASON on my Honda HR-214 lawnmower! It was 4 seasons old when I bought it, so it has been faithfully cutting my large lawns (the old house was 3500sq/ft of lawn and current house has 6,000sq/ft of grass) for DAMN NEAR A QUARTER-CENTURY ON IT'S ORIGINAL ENGINE! Had it in the shop for a new drive clutch once, new control cables once, and I PM the hell out of it several times a year. The OHV engine is tired of it's valve guides, and so I lay down a HUGE smokescreen when I crank her up (just to piss of the enviro neighbors), but she settles down after the cloud drifts off, and lays into the tough bluegrass with a will. I keep her loins lubed only with the best 30W HD oil I can buy, usually Delo, and she cuts 6,000sq/ft of lawn on less than a pint of fuel. Anyone else got such a machine in their shed?

The next envelope brings my doctor's office staff to the POTW competition dais. The staff has processed three R/Xs since I got back from my sun chasing, and they have gotten every one wrong! Two were never sent, dispite assurances that they were, and the third just went to the wrong pharmacy. That's a strikeout any any ballgame.

The last envelope bears the name of "W.H. Tyrone Terrill". Google his sorry ass. Yes, he is, in fact, the "Human Rights Director" of the City of St. Paul, MN. Tyrone's claim to fame is that he just banned the Easter Bunny from City properties. The Easter Bunny, a complete fabrication of commercial enterprises, not religious scholars, is supposed to offend "non-christians" in the St. Paul community (read, Muslims). If you want more dirt on Tyrone, who is a genuine Race Pimp on the City payroll in St. Paul (don't take it from me, read his resume, which I posted on Rivrdog Blog here).

Quiet! Da Judge is Judging!

The winner of this week's Peeve of the Week is:

W.H. Tyrone Terrill! For conduct above and beyond even the most outrageous of Race Pimps, full in the style of Jesse Jackson, we find that Tyrone, slayer of the Easter Bunny, and Chief Desecrator of Cellophane Easter Grass, is our finalist for Peeve of the Week! Please accept this Internet Posting as official Notice, Tyrone. A full Certificate, suitable for framing, will be sent out shortly. It will include a suggested paragraph on how you might modify your resume to highlight this sterling accomplishment. Best of luck to you!

Enough Pomp and Circumstances! Wife! My glass is dry! (Wife fails to respond, earns another demerit, she couldn't march them all off if she was the entire 10th Mountain). Take five whilst I refill my own glass....

Time for some curmudgeonly goodness from around the blogosphere.

We start with my partner in shooting and blogging to the North, up Puget Sound way, the doughty Analog Kid. He demonstrates his curmudgeonliness this week by posting some tunage. Not just any tunage, but perhaps the most misanthropic tunage I've ever read the lyrics for. This tunage might have been written by Jesperson, the "Happy Face Killer", or his Professor in crime, the Green River Killer, both of whom picked on ladies of the half-world. Picked on them as in killed them. In their dozens. The Green River Killer 'fessed to almost 50, and Happy Face is still fessing, may be over 10 by now. They make Son of Sam look like a choirboy.

Denny, the Grouchy Old Cripple (in Atlanta), has a fine post up about Jane (Traitor) Fonda. It seems the Georgia Legislature was heaping accolades on State heros and heroines, as they do once every legislative session. Some lefty fuckwit nominated Hanoi Jane. She went down in flames, just like many of my fellow warriors did over Hanoi, where she entertained the Commie ack-ack gunners during the end of the VietNam War. It's a great post, go here to read it, and don't be surprised if you linger for some of Denny's other great stuff. he IS Mr. Georgia Curmudgeon, but he gets competition from Acidman.

Acidman, of course, has had some fierce trials lately. Trials of Life itself. He had a major perforated ulcer, which all of the goody-twoshoes in his comment threads refer to as a result of alcoholism, but I'm not so sure. I've got a hole or two in my gut, a little lower down, and I don't drink enough to make said holes. He loves to go to Costa Rica, and lives off the local economy when there. I go to Mexico and do the same thing. We both came up with bleeding holes in the gut at the same point in our travels, just after returning. Mine closed up, after I took beaucoup antibiotics. Acidman's didn't, and he had to have surgery to resection his gut.

So, to honor my Acidman, my Blog-Granpa, I've gone back into his archives for this. But really, his whole blog is like this. He is a Curmudgeon, that's why.

GuyS, better know as the Sailor of Snugg Harbor, and as fine a writer as ever came from 'tween decks, writes a letter to the "Mythical" Moderate Muslim. then he follows it with a second Letter. Guy, you've nailed it. You should have stayed in, and became a Mustang Admiral. The Navy could have used you. I can see you now, ginning up Iraq's navy to their version of the BrownWater Fleet. The Somalian pirate fleet would be on the bottom by now....
GuyS IS a Man of Letters, what can I say?

The Retired Geezer is a South Idaho curmudgeon. As differentiated from Panhandle Curmudgeons, who tend to be a little less sociable, you know, the shoot first and ask questions later types? Retired Geezer notes that the combined arms op that released the "Peace Workers" who had been captured (the terrorists killed the lone American in the group) had been denigrated by some filk that said that the forces had "released" the trio. That's RELEASED as in WHEN THESE TROOPS ARRIVED, THE TERRORISTS "RELEASED" THE COMPOUND THAT THEY WERE HOLDING AND GOT OUTA DODGE. Retired Geezer takes exception to the pacifist wording of the communique. Right ON, Mr. Geezer!

OK, enough posts. The mind cannot comprehend what the ass cannot bear.

I'll end with this delightful Catholic joke:

It was time for Father John's Saturday evening bath
and young sister Magdalene Edwards had prepared the
bath water and towels just the way the old nun had instructed.
Sister Magdalene was also instructed not to look at
Father John's nakedness if she could help it, do whatever
he told her to, and pray.

The next morning the old nun asked Sister Magdalene
how the Saturday night bath had gone. "Oh, sister,"
said the young nun dreamily. "I've been saved."

"Saved? And how did that fine thing come about?" asked
the old nun.

"Well, when Father John was soaking in the tub, he asked
me to wash him, and while I was washing him he guided
my hand down between his legs where he said the Lord
keeps the Key to Heaven."

"Did he now," said the old nun, evenly.

Sister Magdalene continued, "And Father John said that
if the Key to Heaven fit my lock, the portals of Heaven
would be opened to me and I would be assured of salvation
and eternal peace and then Father John guided his Key
of Heaven into my lock."

"Is that a fact," said the old nun more evenly.

"That wicked old Devil," said the old nun. "He told
me it was Gabriel's Horn, and I've been blowing it for
40 years!"

If I thought all Catholics had this sense of humor, I could sign onto their program, but then I would Burn In Hell, because I told the Ex-Wife (a Catholic) I never would join the mackerel-snapper brigade.

See you next week!

3 Comments:

Anonymous Sage Rat said...

George,

Your comments triggered a question in my mind: Does Jesse Jackson have enough credibility left to even be considered a Gadfly??

Sage Rat

14:23  
Anonymous Guy S said...

Thanks for the kind words! Things are at sixes and sevens out here with a medical emergency, and a pending move resulting from same. And other fun stuff that reached a head during this same time frame. But I may have more time at hand to scribble then I thought. If this holds true, look for yet another letter to my mythical moderate muslim...whoever and where ever they may be.

17:45  
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