warpedskydiver

John I too miss my dad, he taught me so much I cannot possibly list it all. I remember one thing he said to me the most, you better not forget that you may not be here tommorrow. Maybe some of you will never understand that, but I sure do. My dad was very rough on me as a kid, I once got my ass kicked by seven other kids in my class who would follow me home everyday just to bully me. My dad had enough brains to tell me that if I did not catch each one of them alone, and beat the crap out of them I should NEVER return home again. My dad knew the importance of self reliance, he lived it. I am very grateful. He taught me how to shoot and move, climb, all about tracking, animal care, anything mechanical, and just about anything you can need. That guy knew how to do nearly anything. I MISS YOU DAD!

Or if it is on a topic that you may have trouble finding try Paladin Press.

Happy Birthday!!! Keep from hurting that knee further, you don't want to be like me do ya? use a student jumpsuit if you have to jump, hey then the grass stains on the ass don't matter.

Rampaging squirrel injures 3 72-year-retiree dispatches rowdy rodent with a crutch Reuters Updated: 8:23 a.m. CT June 14, 2007 BERLIN - An aggressive squirrel attacked and injured three people in a German town before a 72-year-old pensioner dispatched the rampaging animal with his crutch. The squirrel first ran into a house in the southern town of Passau, leapt from behind on a 70-year-old woman, and sank its teeth into her hand, a local police spokesman said on Thursday. With the squirrel still hanging from her hand, the woman ran onto the street in panic, where she managed to shake it off. The animal then entered a building site and jumped on a construction worker, injuring him on the hand and arm, before he managed to fight it off with a measuring pole. "After that, the squirrel went into the 72-year-old man's garden and massively attacked him on the arms, hand and thigh," the spokesman said. "Then he killed it with his crutch." The spokesman said experts thought the attack may have been linked to the mating season or because the squirrel was ill.

Five down, at least ten more to go... two of them were with one shot [sportsannouncer] It's a double folks![/sportsannouncer] Poison is just not right, you never know what might eat them. I used .22 rimfire with shotshells, you would think it was a child with a cork popgun, from the barely noticeable noise. I was going to use the suppressed .22cal air rifle but it is a gift so I won't be trying it out before the recipient gets it.

Don't fool yourself, yes they can be that stupid.

I would gladly spend another birthday of mine to honor that guy. We have all lost far too many friends. I did not know him really well, but he was always nice to me. I was glad to be there with his friends and family.

He had the cops take all the guns and destroy them. Why?......geez his dad must be spinning in his grave. I hope they did not just sell the guns on the street. I guess it depends on what town it was.

With some doctors, sexy lingerie is a nice idea

You freakin levitator

Maybe he was a nice old man, 300k over a great number of years? Maybe he was a depression era child, they did not trust bankers. 45 loaded guns?.....did any of them jump out and hurt someone?

not at the same time though...

Tell him to have a nice iced tea, a BLT and have his shotgun ready. Shit like this can spill into your life in mere seconds.

One frosty keg of Tetleys or similar!

If it was done outside, in a very public area there has been no crime committed. This could have been recorded by ANYONE in that area

Hardly news to me... Chad Airforce planes have been targeted with Russian built SAM radar many times in the last two years.

I also hear we are arming the Iraqi's in Iraq. Oh wait Sunnis are Iraqis too.

Have you checked into some RCBS reloading equipment so you can.......roll your own I am getting a Dillon 650xl with three conversion kits soon. Then I can shoot until my trigger finger gets blisters

I kinda figured.

I concur, I usually solve it by rinsing the top in the shower. I have to shave my head, otherwise I will look like I have mange.

What exactly,does this tribute say well?Allthough I do feel for anybody who has lost a loved one,asking for people to be proud is just taking the piss. Were you born like this? or did you suffer severe trauma to your head?

Happy Birthday your royal majesty....

Sorry, I don't have anything to post about layoffs or politics, but I DO have another story from the Public Bathroom. Enjoy. You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games. I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, fucker. I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too. But I got you this time. Yeah fucker I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed brocoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese. I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and fucking nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almsot die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church. Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena. You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the fucking sinks. You stupid, socially retarded fuck. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle. Your opening slavo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs. The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war. You do not dissapoint me. With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready. "AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log". Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over. The only thing I can think of is that you must has completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashs falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive. I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake. "You want to play??" I growls. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!" Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't. Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late! Oders pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits. Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, Fucker!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing. It's all over except for the clean up. Fuck with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.

I am a Shepherd dog therefore I choose where to make an exit! [/nazilike GSD voice] Did you happen to fing a bloodied leg off some jeans? My old dogs(deceased) did that once. No hospitals reported a bad dog bite, no complaints filed. My guess is the person bit was not there for a lawful purpose. And there was ALOT of blood.

we taught some guys that song.