Monday, November 5, 2012

Vote, dammit.

So, I just got my 6th election-related call in the last 3 ½ hours. This one had a real human on the other end and she told me she was calling to remind me to vote tomorrow.
“Really?” I said. “You’re the 6th call I’ve had since 4:30. Do you think I live under a rock? Do you really think I’m dumb enough to NOT know it’s election day tomorrow?”

“Umm …”
“And seriously.  If I was stupid enough to NOT know tomorrow was election day, would you really want me voting?”


Friday, November 2, 2012

Hurricane Prep

So what do you do before a hurricane? You play proctologist with the storm drain in your driveway so the garage doesn’t flood, and you practice shooting zombies.

Sweet Daughter and I stopped in our new gun (and only!) gun store in town  last week. They're still ramping up, but we bought some ammo and SD picked out some targets as we had planned on meeting up with Shorter Half over the weekend to do some shooting.
That is a black cat on her forehead from a "Harvest Party" at school.
Unbeknownst to SD, SH is, um, a bit put off by roaches. The target she chose for him was a giant zombie roach. When all was said and done, I think SH put every round he had with him through that target.

I was given a pretty standard issue zombie. SH wanted me to try his AR -- that thing has so much stuff dripping off of it, it took me a minute to figure out where the magazine went. It was the first time I’d shot anything with a scope – and wow. That was easy. I put the crosshairs in the center of his forehead and let fly. Since we were rather close, the first shot was a little low. I walked it up to what looked like the center of his forehead and went to town. I tried to get my sights back on target as quickly as possible, and kept firing. I’d estimate I was getting a round off every two seconds.

 Here’s what I find interesting – I was aiming for “center of mass” as it related to his skull, not realizing I was high and over to the left. This is because I didn’t notice the “hair”, and I subconsciously saw the mask as good guy, and avoided it.

Sweet Daughter had her Crickett and decided not to use the bi-pod this time, firing it from the shoulder. When all was said and done, all 40 shots ended up on the paper. She was tickled. At one point she was a bit frustrated by the chest shots. SH explained how the heart shot would have killed him, and how the shoulder shot would have disabled him. “But Daddy!” she said, “That won’t work. Everybody knows you have to shoot a zombie in the head to kill it!”

Sweet Daughter with her war face.
 Smart girl.