Monday, July 03, 2006

"Have a happy Fourth!"

Yeah, I'll do that --if I can avoid getting pulled over for having a license plate light out and having some way-too-juiced-up cop demand that I submit to a breathalyzer. Heaven forbid that I should blow an oh-eight and get hauled off to jail and lose my job --all for driving at an impaired level that is still NASCAR compared to some half-blind retiree.

From the archives, a special Fourth of July version of "The Word of God"...


I was going through a box of books the other day and found my Bible. A big one, like a foot tall by eight inches wide. A family Bible. I got it at Barnes and Noble a few years ago. It was on sale.

I kind of defaced it, but for a good reason: I painstakingly cut out six hundred pages' worth of profile of a Smith and Wesson Sigma forty caliber, so that the gun would hide nicely inside. (And no, not one of the sissy, post-ban ten-rounders. I mean a pre-ban, fifteen-round magazine with one in the chamber. Sixteen rounds of forty. Yeah, you forty-five guys may not care for a forty, but I've got six more
rounds than you do. To each his own.)

So anyhow, I did this for a reason. I kept it on the bookcase by the door when I lived in Orlando. Check this out:

[Knock knock.]

Chris: "Who's-ever there?"

Thug: "Department of Anti Not Niceness. Open up. We're here to put a bag over your head and ship you off to a con-, I mean, relocation camp, and to shove a banana up your ass. Bird flu is coming, don't you know."

Chris: "Just a moment, I'll get the--"

Thug: "No need, sir, we'll just break it down." [Door smashes in.]

Chris: "Oh my goodness! I tremble in fear of you! You used to be a harmless welfare recipient. But now that welfare-to-work program has made you a government employee with a gun. Good thinking!"

Thug: "Shut up and stick your head in this bag!"

Chris: "Oh, please, please, may I take my family Bible? To comfort me in my hour of need?"

Thug: "Oh, sure, why not. You silly religious types..."

[Chris grabs the Bible and, oops! it falls right open in his hands and tumbles to the ground. Look what remains!: A big, fat, fuckin gun in his hand.]

Chris: "Eat lead, Commie! [Blam!] You're a sorry excuse for an American! [Blam!] Where's your driver? Lemme plug him while I'm at it! Torch your car, too. Turn _you_ into the hunted! [Blam!] Don't forget: Freedom isn't free! [Blam!] Sometimes it means killing losers like you! [Blam! Blam blam!] _Now_ look!: Your head wound is ruining my berber! And now I have to repaint _again_!"