God and Guns, Part 2. After the failed attempt to find something tolerable on the radio, I popped in one of my own CDs and continued trucking on down I-81 at a good 80-85 mph clip with at least two pace cars ahead of me to draw out any fuzz. Because my Moms wouldn't be home until the evening, I had decided to stop by my friend Mike's house in Buchanan to mooch some grub and school him in foosball. You might remember Mike from last year's post about fishing with bullballs which turned out not to be a brand of fish bait.
After eating some gourmet Kraft macaroni and cheese and watching a little bit of Season 2 of Chappelle's Show, Mike suggested that we bring out the
Growing up, I never had a bb gun or a pellet gun. That was something that Mom didn't approve of, and for good reason. Enough damage was done among we siblings with household items turned into weapons without having access to manufactured goods. A punch to the nads is one thing, a bb to the face is another. And so I grew up with a healthy respect for firearms and never fired a gun until a few years ago. But when in Rome, do as the Romans. And when in Buchanan, shoot some guns. Anyway, if I am ever called on to fulfill my duty to defend the Constitution from America's enemies, or when the end times come, I need to be prepared.
We set up some 20 oz bottles, an orange juice jug, and a bullseye, did a couple of 8-balls, and let the good times roll. After emptying a couple clips in the .22, we switched to the 9 mm and taught those bottles a thing or two. Next, we moved to the bolt action rifle, and I shot off a bottle cap from 65 yards. So if things don't work out with the sociology gig, I hear that the military is looking to hire.
I also got a burn on my arm from a hot shell. But that's nothing from the sunburn I got the next day.
Tune in later for Part 3 of my redneck weekend in which I catch the largest horny head ever and learn an important and painful lesson about always wearing sunscreen.
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