Limp Dick Lugar and the RINO Parade

So weren't you assholes supposed to ride in and save us gun owners from the terrifying Democrat Majority? Then why do I hear this shit coming out of your mouth?

"Do we also need people running around with a 31 round chamber clip....Is there a necessity?”

I dunno, Dick; maybe because if the best gun owners can get is a cunt flap like you, then voting really isn't going to save this country, is it?

I mean, I hate to be so cheaply self referential but-Silly RINO, Guns are for Pigs.

Pause: The Limits of "No Homo"

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The Last Temptation of the Mall Ninja Confession Booth

So when you are a survivalist and a reefer head, when you are not sodomizing entranced suburban white girls to a sultry jazz backbeat, you come up with a lot of weird ideas for your post TEOTWAWKI plans, some of them creative, some of them merely disturbed.

I've mentioned my castle made of shipping containers before, and some versions of the plan involve me having a moat around it. And so I get to thinking, hey, every evil genius warlord has a nasty creature in his fuckin' moat. But alligators are too cliche, and they die in an Indiana winter anyway. Piranhas? Too lazy to actually kill anything most of the time. An utter lack of sea serpents or hit bi water nymphs with enchantment powers brings us to California sea lions.

I WILL FUCKING KEEL YOU

And the next thing you are looking up their wikipedia page and determining if they can survive in your climate and trying to figure out if you can train them to be territorial dicks to everyone but you.

Some other ideas that have had some serious table time in this organization:

Building a high pressure pneumatic airgun that fires moderately sized ball bearings on full auto powered by three big co2 cylinders sitting in an armored box in a van, with a rotating turret that can be controlled by remote or set up to fire at designated targets automatically. Our own fully legal technical remote with no paperwork.

Mounting the entire unit on Tibetan yaks because apparently they can be ridden like horses. In the hilly terrain of southern IN they would be great for winter ops, they can carry a hell of a load, and they are a triple use animal (Milk, fur and meat) with surprisingly good characteristics. Naturally, we had planned on issuing kilts and calling ourselves the Royal Canadian Kilted Yaksmen-but then I thought Canada doesn't really deserve us representing it.



Another item of note: We are going to be merchant gods in the PAW, bitch-we are stockpiling porno mags. One of our guys has about the largest collection of Club magazine that has ever been compiled. I think that will comprise one of our primary trade goods with other survivor colonies. Do you know how little porn is going to make it out of the zombie apocalypse? Not much my friends-and we will have the lion's share. We keep trying to get him to buy some gay porn as well, but he keeps refusing to man up and take one for the team. I guess it doesn't help that we insist he uses his credit card.

Oh sure, you laugh at our brilliant ideas now, Mr. or Mrs. Internet Survivalist Hardass, but when we come up with the one that makes our fortunes in TEOTWAWKI you'll be thinking "Man, I wish I smoked weed and played dungeons and dragons."

You'll see. YOU'LL ALL SEE.

Hannah Montana & The Fundamental Injustice of Humanity

So like any good natured American pedophile, Our Hero finds himself pausing the DVR when a piece of hot white jailbait ass comes on the screen. Or he would, if he had a DVR or the technological savvy to use one properly. But he doesn't, and he can't, and so when Our Hero is trying to do what any red blooded male would do during Hannah Montana and jerk off to Miley Cyrus, he finds it impossible. Why? Because at least every 90 seconds that goddamn prick Billy Ray Cyrus appears on the screen, and Our Hero understandably loses his hardon the second it happens, overcome by a virulent hatred that drives all other emotions from his weed and adderall fried brain.

The fundamental thrust of this article is this: that "Achy Breaky Heart" is the greatest atrocity in the history of mankind. I really don't have a problem with Miley Cyrus or Hannah Montana or the Disney Channel or anything like that; America needs it's legal child pornography, or what are all the pedos going to whack off to? No, no, what I have a problem with is that in a just universe, the man who made "Achy Breaky Heart" popular would have died in obscure poverty. Yet from just the kickbacks he gets from that show, he will love in comfort and ease for the rest of his life. I mean, we hanged Saddam Hussein for genocide, yet Billy Ray Cyrus commits Genrecide and he is forgiven because he has a hot daughter with nominal singing ability.

Let me break it down for you, the top ten atrocities of the last century.

10: The Cock Taco
09: Hot Coffee
08: The Rwandan Genocide
07: The Rape of Ethiopia (And the pud pulling of the League of Nations by extension)
06: The cancellation of Firefly in the first season
05: "Wow, Jess, she waved back!" *heartsick voice* "REALLY!?!?!?" "No."
04: The War on Drugs and accessories
03: The Holocaust
02: Stalin's more awful, less selective Holocaust
01: "Achy Breaky Heart"

That's a list, motherfucker, you know you can't disagree with it. And yet Billy Ray goes on and on, not executed, not fined, not even scolded harshly by the United Nations (In this, I suppose, he is much like Italy with the League of Nations in number 7). No, the fucker just goes on and on with his faux white trash accent and his stupid fucking flavor savor that gives me hate sores all over my body and kills my hardon when I am trying to masturbate to his daughter.

If that isn't proof of an unjust world, I don't know what is.

I totally ganked this from a hotter blogger

Suicide Girls Suicide Hotline - watch more funny videos

Saw this on Coke Talk and I just wanted to share it.

Everyone should giggle this much while relatively sober.

Look out for my Special Report: Hannah Montana and the Fundamental Injustice of Humanity. It is mostly about how much I hate Billy Ray Cyrus.

Fuck ya'll crackahs I'm gonna have a cigarette. I have developed a real taste for American Spirit rollies lately. I've been re-reading The Dark Tower, in order and on less acid and perhaps completing it this time, and it makes me feel like a gunslinger. I doubt Roland of Gilead used a rolling machine though.

So about that cigarette...

Gun Nuts vs. Prepping - An Essential Dichotomy

I am not the only gun owner at my place of work, but recently I had a discussion that proves how different I am from them. I mean, we all agree on gun control policies (that they are dogshit) and on zombies (that they deserve a swift death) but there is still a massive gulf between the dedicated prepper and the simple gun enthusiast.

I was talking to a guy at work who owns an SKS and was offering to take me up to Fort Atterbury to shoot with him sometime, and offhandedly I asked "So what kind of rig do you use for your SKS?" And he just looked at me like..."What, rig? What are you talking about?"

Yes, Virginia, certain elements of the gun culture lack even a means to carry spare ammunition.

And it isn't like we haven't discussed the Zombie Apocalypse before; this is a nerd friendly job and frankly the subject comes up a lot. But it is like this guy hasn't even thought of how he is going to carry ammo. Hell, I don't even now how he is going to reload on the fly-he doesn't even have stripper clips for the goddamn thing. He is going to e running around with loose 7.62x39 in his pocket gathering lint and gum.

Curious about his other preps, I grilled him about his ammo stockpile. The dude has 80 rounds in the box and probably 100 rounds scattered so far that they pretty much don't count.

Look, I mean I shouldn't be casting stones here-I haven't even taken a rifle class (Side note: Neither has he) But it never ceases to amaze me that people who own guns invest in the gun but not a single item of gear required to make the gun a working fighting platform. I mean shit, the guy has two pistols and not a single holster or spare magazine.

Somehow without consulting me, the gun culture has allowed in people who just like shooting guns and don't plan for SHTF. And I mean I don't really have a problem with them, but if this guy thinks he is coming to my house when the balloon goes up, that shit is never going to happen.

Anyway, as an evangelical (*snort* *giggle*) survivalist I advised him to pick up an el cheapo chicom chest rig from Traildust, so he has a place for spare rounds at least. But I just thought it was interesting because among our little social group, one of the first questions when someone gets a new gun is "What Rig are you planning on using?" and this guy didn't even know what that means.

The American Wet Dream

So not being able to write at work is chewing on my resolve. At one time I could discretely both log on to ZS and save my text in a preview post in the forum to copy over later to the blog or to the novel or whatever. I could do this because of a foolishly simple backdoor in their security protocols. (If you are wondering why I am not on ZS any more, that is why-and because I feel bad about showing my face there without more story updates.) Anyway, they finally figured it out and blocked it.

It cut me off from my main source of reading material-gun blogs and the Zombie Squad forums-as well as from my way to write at work. Luckily, I have kind of solved both problems with my Kindle-I think. With it I can both save blogs and forums for later use at any time, and kind of make notes in certain documents. Last night I managed to start a porno novel-just a couple of pages, but the fact is I have finally adjusted to the flow, albeit in a cumbersome way, and badaow! I just might be back in business.

Lately I have been contemplating a porno novel writer's life. I see these things for sale in the porn shacks and shit, so somebody must be publishing them. And in my head there is always a porno track playing, so I was just doing something that came naturally to me-living an overtly absurd and cruel fantasy life. And it comes easily to me; I think once I get going I'll be able to bang one out (hee hee) every month or so. If I can get, I dunno, two or three hundred bucks a pop for a trashy porn novella...fuck it, I ain't above it. Never have been, never will be. And hey-won't it be nice to have a tossy novel that has its gun facts straight?

I should probably work on my other shit too, and I will, but this time, this year...I think this is the year of the Sky Valley Slave Academy. Why? Because if they say write whatcha know...do I know perversion, baby.

Look forward to slash be warned: I may have a preview for you sick fucks. I'll mark it LSFWTU (Less Safe For Work Than Usual) because I'm such a motherfucking saint.