My younger stepson just got his driver's license (I had black hair when we started) and he loved this story from Tony Kornheiser (of The Washington Post and ESPN's "Pardon the Interruption") about his driver's education experience.
Okay, equal time. Today my older stepson and I went to the firing range to shoot for half an hour. I hadn't fired a gun in about twenty years, and with my right eye's issues, I couldn't see the paper target ten feet away. Out of six shots, four hit the paper, including me trying to shoot left-handed. Frustrating, so I let him have the rest of the rounds while I watched. Otherwise I was wasting time and money.
On the way home, I started telling hunting stories from my youth. I was fourteen years old and my dad and I were hunting with my grandfather. Now, my grandfather was one hell of a hunter. He came from a time and place where hunting was a way to feed the family, not a sport, and rounds were exPENsive. To hunt with my grandfather was to step back to the ancestral forests of Europe four thousand years ago. In fact, into his fifties, my grandfather would hunt deer with a bow and get his limit before gun season started.
Grandpa was in his late seventies and we were hunting deer on his place in southern Indiana. He lived in a small place in the woods that backed up to Brown County State Park. Deer, either through luck or Darwinism or some innate shrewdness, know the state park as a safe place but there is only so much food to go around, so they have to leave to eat. Deer hunters had figured this out, too, and would hunt on my grandfather's property without permission. My grandfather let it be known that no one was welcome on his property during deer season. Still, they tried, but that Crazy Old Man Burton kept them away.
So we were on his land, and it was the first real cold, crisp fall day that year. It was perfect; the pawpaws had just ripened and you could hear a rabbit cough from a mile away. We were about to deploy to our assigned locations when Grandpa said "Wait, I need to sh*t."
Dad: "Go ahead." Grandpa: "Stand behind me." Me: "What?" Grandpa: "I'm wearing white long johns. When I drop my drawers, I don't want some dumb SOB to see my white long johns, think it's a deer's tail, and shoot me in the *ss."
So we stood behind him. Grandpa grabbed a sapling and leaned back and out so as not to soil his clothes. Yes, that happens. My grandfather had some health issues at the time and was making noises that made me go to my happy place.
Some minutes later, into this grand, majestic scene wandered the biggest deer my father had ever seen in his life. He claimed it was a ten point buck, and I'd believe him. Dad got buck fever; he raised his rifle and shot. I turned and saw this massive buck fleeing while my grandfather yelled.
Dad: I missed! Dad, are you okay? Grandpa: You dumb son of a b*tch, I just drove that t*rd six feet into the dirt!
On the plus side, my grandfather never suffered constipation again. Might have been the sulfur in the smoke.
Those Gibberlings. Enough Bhaal spawn have fallen to them that its a wonder Bhaal never revived.
Certainly plenty of Bhaalspawn have fallen to gibberlings, but that's only by adding up the Bhaalspawn from many, many alternate universes. That sum pales compared to the total number of Bhaalspawn in all of those universes!
1. I got to see George Takei (Sulu) in person last night as he spoke at my University. One of the questions was "What is the most commonly asked question about Star Trek?", and the answer was "What is your favorite episode?" To which the answer was "The Naked Time", which is where that picture is from (pre-edited, of course).
2. That is a very interesting picture. I wonder how half of those names even got approved.
They are probably from times when those names actually meant something. There is a town in "Forgotten Towns of New Jersey" called "Ogg's Hat". And the story is that he wore this top hat to ask someone to marry him at a dance, she turned him down, he threw down his hat and left. Thereafter, for some reason, the Town was known as "Ogg's Hat".
"Threeway" could be some place three things met, like Four Corners. Four Corners (if you haven't read Tony Hillerman's Navajo novels) is where, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado meet at the same point.
"Hooker" could be named after the famous General. Kiester is famous because of a Hemorrhoid commercial (Preparation H). (Only recently) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HIx-92xc-s
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#14:55 Gameboy Sedater
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whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat
On the way home, I started telling hunting stories from my youth. I was fourteen years old and my dad and I were hunting with my grandfather. Now, my grandfather was one hell of a hunter. He came from a time and place where hunting was a way to feed the family, not a sport, and rounds were exPENsive. To hunt with my grandfather was to step back to the ancestral forests of Europe four thousand years ago. In fact, into his fifties, my grandfather would hunt deer with a bow and get his limit before gun season started.
Grandpa was in his late seventies and we were hunting deer on his place in southern Indiana. He lived in a small place in the woods that backed up to Brown County State Park. Deer, either through luck or Darwinism or some innate shrewdness, know the state park as a safe place but there is only so much food to go around, so they have to leave to eat. Deer hunters had figured this out, too, and would hunt on my grandfather's property without permission. My grandfather let it be known that no one was welcome on his property during deer season. Still, they tried, but that Crazy Old Man Burton kept them away.
So we were on his land, and it was the first real cold, crisp fall day that year. It was perfect; the pawpaws had just ripened and you could hear a rabbit cough from a mile away. We were about to deploy to our assigned locations when Grandpa said "Wait, I need to sh*t."
Dad: "Go ahead."
Grandpa: "Stand behind me."
Me: "What?"
Grandpa: "I'm wearing white long johns. When I drop my drawers, I don't want some dumb SOB to see my white long johns, think it's a deer's tail, and shoot me in the *ss."
So we stood behind him. Grandpa grabbed a sapling and leaned back and out so as not to soil his clothes. Yes, that happens. My grandfather had some health issues at the time and was making noises that made me go to my happy place.
Some minutes later, into this grand, majestic scene wandered the biggest deer my father had ever seen in his life. He claimed it was a ten point buck, and I'd believe him. Dad got buck fever; he raised his rifle and shot. I turned and saw this massive buck fleeing while my grandfather yelled.
Dad: I missed! Dad, are you okay?
Grandpa: You dumb son of a b*tch, I just drove that t*rd six feet into the dirt!
On the plus side, my grandfather never suffered constipation again. Might have been the sulfur in the smoke.
Maybe he liked it better that way....!
Lengthy Jams are epected....
I've had this experience, too!
1. I got to see George Takei (Sulu) in person last night as he spoke at my University. One of the questions was "What is the most commonly asked question about Star Trek?", and the answer was "What is your favorite episode?" To which the answer was "The Naked Time", which is where that picture is from (pre-edited, of course).
2. That is a very interesting picture. I wonder how half of those names even got approved.
"Threeway" could be some place three things met, like Four Corners. Four Corners (if you haven't read Tony Hillerman's Navajo novels) is where, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico and Colorado meet at the same point.
"Hooker" could be named after the famous General. Kiester is famous because of a Hemorrhoid commercial (Preparation H). (Only recently)