Posted on 01/12/2013 2:06:42 PM PST by DogByte6RER
One look at his Facebook picture makes me think he’s never picked up a gun in his life. For that matter, I’d be willing to bet he and his boyfriend had a lot of fun laughing as they plagerized an article from a gay porn magazine substituting words such as ‘repeatedly chambering’, ‘full auto’, and ‘hot vomit’ in place of terms better left unwritten. After which they retreated to a hot bath, cosmopolitans in hand, to gloat about how those silly beasts in flyover country would never know how they had one pulled over on them.
In the words of Ash Williams '... and I'm a Chinese jet pilot.'
Patrick: When I was a young boy one of my friends handed me a squirt gun, and I peed my pants.
Wow! Talk about pee stained panties!
“Blanchfield is a Ph.D. candidate and Woodruff Scholar in comparative literature at Emory University in Atlanta.”
Candidate means he’s working on it...probably one of those permanent student types who doesn’t have a real job.
I grew up in New York City, but when I moved into redneck country I decided I'd better pretend I was into the whole culture. I ran the entire gauntlet: I printed NRA stickers from the web and pasted them to the front door and back window of my apartment. I looked at numerous pictures of Bushmasters, Howitzers and even nuclear weapons. I even watched a few minutes of the streaming version of The Expendables on Netflix, despite the very real risk that it might queer my Indie and GLBT preferences for several weeks.
But my pretenses all came crashing down in just a few moments one fateful night.
After the nineteenth break-in at our upscale apartment in Midtown Atlanta, I decided to take action. Gathering all my courage, I asked the clerk at Bed, Bath, and Beyond where I might be able to obtain an AirSoft Pistol. [Full disclosure: I had originally planned on buying a CO2 BB Gun, but Mother's admonition that I would "shoot my eye out," persuaded me to invest in something a little less "Butch."]
He informed me that the Wal-Mart across the parking lot would probably carry them. I was apprehensive; I admit it. I had never been inside a Wal-Mart before, and the background check was a little intimidating. I had several tiny issues in my file as a result of a brief teaching assignment in Akron Ohio during the 'Nineties. Yes, they voted for 0bama twice. But their attitude toward the distribution of NAMBLA materials and so forth was nowhere near as enlightened as it is in "The City" where I grew up.
Anyway, Bruce and I were lying there in the heat of the Atlanta evening when I heard the door shudder. I knew we were about to be robbed again.
It's fine to be heroic when you're rehearsing all this in your mind, but it's something altogether different when your "girl"friend is lying next to you in the dark and you're contemplating doing bodily harm to another human being -- especially someone who is almost certainly a member of an oppressed minority, who is only lashing out an an unjust system.
Then I remembered! "My Purth!" I whispered. "I left it in the living room, and itth a Vethathee!"
That did it.
I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the AirSoft gun, digging deeply in to the jarful of plastic pellets a moment later. Gosh, it was hard loading those pesky little balls into the bottom of the gun! After spilling what seemed like a hundred on our fresh muslin sheets I was feeling ready when Bruce asked, "Did you pump the Green Gas into the bottom?" Green Gas? What the heck was Green Gas? "The gun won't work without the gas." Bruce said, matter-of-factly. "My straight brother used to have one of those."
But I was fed up with people constantly stealing my designer outfits, expensive electronics, and objets d'art. I pushed off the safety, and loudly pulled back the facsimile action slide, spraying pellets everywhere as I did so. Why do they make it so impossible for anyone but an expert to load those things? But in any event, the exaggerated sound of the slide had its desired effect. The rummaging stopped short: the burglar was aware of me now. I could picture him scooping up the last of my laundry money from the coffee table as he prepared to take off. Yes! One for the good guys! But moments later, cold hard reality shattered my illusions of manhood.
"Yo. Better lie yo b!tch @ss back down that bed, you don't wan' me in there slap yo f@ggoty @ss aroun' som."
That was enough for me. I began throwing up uncontrollably, and couldn't stop until the doctor arrived to administer a sedative several hours later. Thank goodness Bruce's health plan includes domestic partners.
Being a hero isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Gaylord Poofter is an unemployed writer on his way back to graduate school.
And that FRiends, is the real story.
I would fill squirt guns with pee, does that count?
Oh yeah, I had to go try it out to see. I didn’t catch that part of the guy’s story, nor did I read the other posts closely enough.
All that's missing is the standard GFW comment about "loading clips with magazines of bullets".
To pee, or not to pee: that is the question.
I choose to pee. Unless I need to shoot some asshat thief in the face first. Then I will pee.
The dude is obviously a maladroit dufuss, so it is best that he remain unarmed.
“For someone who claims to have a Ph.D, he sure doesnt seem very bright.”
Ph.D? Professor of hellish Doctrines?
What is up with that? Do you live in Afghanistan or some crime ridden area of a US city? It seems to me it would be cheaper to just wear a holster...
You mean that you can’t call that dude a Vagina on FR?
>> “This story is fiction, pure made up bovine excrement” <<
.
Are you trying to spoil our fun?
My favorite W.W. line was along the lines of “When you hear that they confiscated Williams’ firearm, you will know that Williams is dead”. He is a personal hero, to me.
Candy-ass sissy. Probably better off unarmed and helpless. While the feral mob is having their way with him, we’ll all have a bit more time to dig in.
Total BS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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