TSCLT 4.0: Bitchy Malevolent Baby Ducks

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Seconded - on both points.


We could send along one gun and no bullets, and they could sit and wonder when it was going to break bad and kill one of them. And a large knife . . . for when someone loses her temper.


I hope that no dust storms rise up unexpectedly.


I've read Sonny Barger's books - the factual ones, not the novels. He's kind of entertaining.


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Heh.


I have two copies of TM31-210. One for me and one for the cat.


His lack of opposable thumbs is all that saves me from him some daze.


Off to see these weasels . . . .


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Most of the dumb masses do not realize that the original Ten Amendments did not confer rights, but merely protected rights they already possessed form government intrusion. This is a point the article made well and clearly.
 
Off to see these weasels . . . .



This bit was motherfucking prophetic, I tellz ya. We opened the door to one unit - going in to inspect to see if the loose toilet was still a'loose, and while my compatriot was talking to the tenants, a weasel ran out, circled his foot, headed for my foot and made like he was fascinated to sniff my shoe. I took the cane end and herded him back into his apartment, telling him, "back, you weasel. No running away for you." He urned back and went inside. He and his partner were largely underfoot the entire time we were there. They were awfully damned cute.


And when I tried to herd him some more with the cane, he latched onto the bottom non-slip gizmo and started gnawing it. It now has a couple of weasel prints on it.


The cat may not approve of this shit.


Off to nap for a bit . . . .




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Home. Very well fed. Ribeye steaks rock. So does company that holds up its end of the table talk.


No weasels were there.


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Happy Friday!!!


Chilly again this morning, but it should warm up next week. Of course, I won't be here much next week.


I have quite a bit of packing/loading to do here in a bit. Getting stuff home for the next event.


Which won't be all that far away from here, really. But they'll have weasels, too, I'm sure . . . .


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Good morning. Of all the weird things life throws at you, my fitted sheet finally gave out, so today's exciting adventure will be shopping for a new fitted sheet. I'm welling to almost bet that they don't sell them by themselves. I'm wondering to I start at the high-end hoping for quality, or do I start at the low-end praying for functionality? Or, other than price, is there really any difference. I might grab something unusual and exotic to eat while I'm out.
 
Morning. Breakfast with the group a little later and then some firearm maintenance and reloading to do. And if things don't change I'll be putting the A/C into service a lot sooner than usual.
 
The good morning news is so depressing. No matter who is in charge, all we ever manage to get is more equal hogs at the trough.
 
Yeah, it's all that unregulated gun exhaust. It figures.


I'm wondering if I can get in a ride or three this weekend. I hope so. It'll be the last one(s) for awhile.


But I reckon they'll let me go to shoot, since I can sit and such. The M1A needs an outing, and I require an outing with it.


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If you get in a DIY state of mind you might want to figure out how to rig a shooting platform to a wheelchair. I'd even be willing to bet there's a market for it. :)
 
I sorted out the cane quiver, so it might be doable.


Truth is, I likely wind up on crutches. The house isn't accessible at all. I should redo the downstairs bits so that it is, either for my use (unlikely) or for resale (most likely).


Assuming that I outlive Mom, and that's a stretch, I'll move down closer to the kids at some point.


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Yeah, you are going to have to get some shit sorted out for that new temporary lifestyle choice.
 
My first FIL had a "Gun Cane." You twisted the handle and the trigger dropped down. It was in reality a 410 shotgun.
 
Fertilizer for thought:

Video of Uber's self-driving car killing Elaine Herzberg is available on YouTube. It will--or at least should--produce shock waves in the culture. The Silicon Valley cult of Artificial Intelligence (AI) -- and the related cult of brain science -- is a main source of today's cultural despair. If the brain is merely a machine that white-coated lab techs can measure and manipulate like any other machine, and if machines can be programmed to emulate the human brain, then human existence has no purpose. Our destiny is fixed in the same way that the paths of the planets and the orbits of electrons are fixed, and our free will, moral responsibility, devotion to the past and regard for the future are the random effluvia of a deterministic process.

If that is the case, then it doesn't matter what we do. We can pursue whatever pleasures or perversions strike our fancy at the moment, because nothing really matters. We are alone in a hostile universe and find our humanity, if such a thing there be, in arbitrary acts of self-assertion. The highest virtue is to define one's own identity, because only the willful assertion of individual particularity answers the emptiness of the universe, and the next-highest virtue is to reinforce other people's arbitrary self-assertion (for example by eliminating offending male-and-female pronouns in order to protect the sensibilities of transgender people).
David P. Goldman (Spengler)

https://pjmedia.com/spengler/ubers-death-car-cracks-liberal-culture/
 
That picture is cracking me up. I know Wat doesn't drink, but to be redneck correct, it has to have a camouflaged beer cooler.
 
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