Answering a question that the BeeGees posed many years ago, it seems that Tylenol might be the solution.

On the good side, we should see a reduction in chick flicks, romantic paperbacks with Fabio-look-alikes in the cover and women complaining that we are insensitive plus reduction in the price of beer, spirits and chocolate since the supply will far exceed the demand.

On the bad side…… I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

Probably I am the last idiot that has seen this, but I have to say I got caught unaware of this little Facebook thing (No, I did not read the terms of agreement when I signed up) but I am wondering if they even have an idea of how many shooters display their wares and activities via this system.

If they ever start deleting, they are gonna have a long job ahead.

PS: Would this be considered “/or Gore”?

Back in the day, there were less people worried about what the rest of the world would think about us and what we did. 65 years later somehow we turned out to be the bad guys because we dropped the big one in Hiroshima while the poor peaceful Japanese nationals were farming, playing with kites, doing origami and having fun with Ikebana. And we now have some people in Japan demanding an apology for dropping the Bomb.

Bullshit. They deserved it.

Nobody talks about Japanese atrocities, Nankin, Mongolia, the Death March, the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” which was Japanese for “we are gonna steal your stuff, rape your women and behead everybody on the way out.” And nobody has apologized for that and even more creepier shit.

If anything, Hiroshima (and Nagasaki) should serve as a reminder to America’s enemies that we shouldn’t be trifled with. If you piss us big enough, long enough, we are willing to convert your cities in glassy parking lots or at least the future sound stage for the remake of The Road Warrior.

Backyard visitor a hint of things to come? I better open my gun safe. 🙂

Finally my book cue landed on this compendium of very logical and very good tips and advices by Massad Ayoob. This book may sound oriented to the new shooter but in fact it will address issues with all ranges of experience and I doubt that anybody will say “I knew all of that.”

The book is easy to read. Mr. Ayoob  writes as he speaks: as a knowledgeable friend who is giving you firm and wise advice without sounding preachy or overbearing. It has the right amount of anecdote till you realize they are not anecdotes but true “Oh Shit” moments that taught a fundamental lesson and you better absorb that material, apply it and do it fast. Mas goes through every aspect of carrying a concealed weapon, from the gun itself to even to sock selection and how to wear them (ankle holsters anyone?) something I never ever thought about!  Even when he dwells into the Open Carry v. Concealed Carry (a true formula to get emotions boiling among gun owners) he manages to impart the pros and cons of both without putting down either or raising the level of emotions.

Go get yours….

Disclaimer: I had the honor of meeting Mas during a couple of IDPA Matches, but that did not influence at all my review of the book. I am actually scared of Gail and her bayonet-topped Glock though 🙂 You just don’t mess with the PodMistress!

I am of two minds about this. On one hand I hate to see the last of the true gladiator challenges disappear but then again bullfighting was not what it used to be when i was a tote. Never mind that Catalonia has become Spain’s version of California and probably have more weirdoes per square kilometer than  Haight-Ashbury, they are doing it out of some PETA-like bullshit common nowadays.

Bullfighting goes all the way to Crete in the 10 to 14 century BC when it was called bull jumping. Then it moved to Spain where it developed into the bullfighting played for ages and no on its way out.

In my pre-pubescent days, I remember watching once a week the summary of bullfights that had happened over the weekend from Spain, Mexico and other places. Talking about intense! Bulls back then were humongous animals with a bad attitude, specially the Miura line who probably killed more bullfighters than all other lines combined. Oh yes, I forgot to mention that earlier: Bullfighters regularly got maimed or outright killed back then. Loss of legs were common and even a set of testicles was left on the sand after a great bullfight. There was also the respected custom of sparing the winning bull’s life (or one that showed a great spirit) so again, it was pure gladiator clash of man versus animal.

Then at the beginning of the 1970’s began the pussification of bullfighting. Bad bullfighters or poorly trained newbies were place on the Arena and were getting their asses handed over on a regular basis. Some even ran away from the beast when it came out of the pen, scared shitless at the sight of the animal equivalent of a Ford EF with two lances attaches to the hood coming right at them. The Tauromachy Powers That Be, afraid that people would stop attending the fights, decided that it would be safer to even out the odds and breed a more gentle kind of bull for the events, a metrosexual bull if you like. And to make sure that breeding mistakes were not made, any bull demonstrating too much guts (or had the bad luck that the bullfighter was too drunk, tripped and fell on the horns by accident) was to be killed in the next bullfight.  Bulls now became as dangerous as ponies compared to their earlier ancestors and the rate of killing and maiming of bullfighters dropped dramatically.

Of course, the unintended consequence of this pussification was that the true fan of the gore and blood left the sport because there was no true challenge to the bullfighter. There was no honor on facing a scared oxen that would drop dead of a heart attack if the Torero would sneeze a bit too hard near it. So it became a slaughter of animals that were better suited for a petting zoo than the Colosseum and now that the PETA-Type Catalonian crowd intervened, they are gone for good. Better to expire than be a mockery of the men and animals that demonstrated more guts than many of their brethren.

And an old bullfighting joke:

This tourist goes to a restaurant Madrid near Plaza Monumental recommended by a buddy of him. He was told to ask for the house special on Mondays and he did so. He was brought this enormous platter of paella type rice topped with two huge meatballs. The dish was delicious and the guy polished it off. Before leaving, he asked the owner what type of meat were the meatballs made of. The owner smiled and said: “Dear señor, those were not meatballs, they were bull testicles.” The tourist was shocked but since the meal’s flavor was excellent, he did not only did not mind but made a reservation for the following Monday. A week later, the tourist is once more at the table ready to eat and the dish is served but this time the meatballs are small and puny. He calls the owner and points out the size of the portion to which the owner responds: “Señor, sometimes the bull wins.”

(rimshot)

Neither type!

I was worried there for a second… phewwwwww!

Hat Tip to Rustmeister’s Alehouse.