Neanderpundit

With the dog sleeping with us, there are officially three mammals farting in our bed at any given time.

The dog usually drops one off just before he goes to sleep, and while it’s vile, he’s only a small dog, so they have no hang time. The wife is a proper lady, and therefore will not fart in public, saving her emissions for after she goes to sleep and her inhibitions relax; she lets of stacatto strings of small farts, after each of which, the dog thumps his tail three or four times against the mattress- thumpthumpthump. As if he was giggling.

I still leave the other occupants of the room clawing at the door in a frantic effort to escape, so I haven’t lost my skills. of course.

Mr Porretto enjoins us to be prepared, and he’s dead on.
One thing he doesn’t discuss, at least not as thoroughly as he might,m is something he himself takes for granted, and something everyone should consider, before they even go to the range, let alone draw down.

That part of the discussion, taking a life, is a serious subject. it is a sobering thought and a difficult conclusion.
That internal battle should be well waged in your mind and in your heart before you pick up a weapon even for the very first time. You have to decide long before your finbger touches the trigger if you are willing to pull the trigger to protect yourself, your family, your property.

You have to know all the facts before then too. I was going to point to a specific post of Joe Huffman’s, which details the legal ramifications, but i couldn’t find the post- Maybe Joe can help, if he stops by.

Mostly, what I want to say is this:
Taking a human life is not something anyone should take lightly.
You should never even touch your gun in defense unless you intend to use lethal and permanet force.
If you have your finger on the trigger, and you hesitate for an instant, you are dead.
For myself, I have decided that when my life is in danger, or the life of my family or friends, I will take life without thought or hesitation, and do so knowing full well the liklihood is that I will be jailed by some nanny motherfucker for exercising my god-given right to protect myself. And that’s fine by me. Because it’s easier to keep fighting when you’re alive than when you’re dead.

be prepared. be prepared mentally, and the physical preparation follows.

We had a dark calico that got both it’s hinds caught in a muskrat trap. Sometime either just before- or if you tend to be maudlin, during- it’s captivity, it was violated by a simese. It chewed off the feet, came home dragging stumps with protruding bone shards, gave birth to a litter of little calico/simese cats. I was studying evolution at the time, and I wondered if the kittens would be born stumpy and deformed, not understanding- yet- the causality of the evolutionary process. Anyway, the cat wouldn’t have anything to do with it’s own kittens, so our peke/toy manchester mutt Lucky wetnursed those damned kits, and protected them with the ferocity of Cerberus.

Dad later gassed the cat in a box, connected to the exhast of the Comet with a length of sump pump hose. Kittens were dead cute and adopted out easy. Lucky kept looking for them as we took them out, one by one, and when the last one was gone, she adopted a rubber cheeseburger and carried it around as her offspring, protecting it from all potential threat.

No, Vman, we didn’t have freaky pet names. I had to call mom to remember what that cat’s name even was, and she said we just called it “cat”. We had freaky pets.