405 years ago today, Guy Fawkes was arrested in the basement of the House of Lords. To date, he has been the only man to enter Parliament with honest intentions.
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Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder Treason Should ever be forgot.=======
And, of course, what better way to celebrate than to watch a movie and set off some gunpowder?
No parties for me… but I did dress myself up as a reclusive and busy college student. (Man, I pull this costume off so well… almost like I do it every day! *chuckle*)
NFO (1) has the safety rules, some of which are actually pretty sensible. Like Number 14: “Hawt chicks are like canaries. Always keep a few around when you visit Bad Place. They’ll die first.” Follow this rule, and not only will you have an early warning system in place (remember, women ALWAYS scream when mortally wounded), you’ll have eye candy company around all the time! (Also, this would make a great way for sororities to make extra money AND get rid of annoying pledges at the same time…) Number 25 is good too, but it’d hurt your seller rating… “F-, would not buy again, now have zombie infestation in neighborhood.”
There’s a new series (The Walking Dead) on AMC starting tonight that I’m recording (I’ll watch it Tuesday, busy now) that look good, and it gets back to zombie basics. (2) I wanted to watch Zombieland tonight, but it’s looking like a no-go… Business exam tomorrow, and the professor likes to pull odd questions from the text.
Have a safe night, everyone, and remember– if that werewolf in the corner looks a bit too real… shoot first, ask questions later. (Kidding, kidding! … kinda.)
(Original here.)
1) Yeah, I get that look, sometimes. But as I always say– if you aren’t already prepared for it, it’s too late to prepare for it…
2) Paging Larry Correia, Mr. Correia, please pick up the white courtesy phone…
In three years, have a view count of more than 250,000. I have to beat Linoge, don’t ya’ know?
Let’s compare private enterprise to government monopolies for a bit. As examples, I’ll choose my favorite gun broker versus the USPS.
My gun broker is available at pretty much any time I need him (I usually just call him or email him, have him order something, and then go pick it up), friendly (hell, first time I walked in his shop, it took him all of 15 seconds to offer me a beer), and knowledgeable. In addition to all this, he’s competitive– I’ve yet to see him beat in response time or price.
The USPS has, in the past twelve months: lost mail, damaged mail, delivered my mail (including university documents) to my neighbors, delivered my neighbor’s mail (including legal documents) to me, unleashed a delivery driver that can’t seem to figure out if she’s playing Crazy Taxi or Vigilante 8, and slammed the entry door to the local post office… in my face… at 4:27 (by their clock)… twice. Oh, yeah, and their boss just announced his retirement… via e-mail.
Hmm… one of these lost money last year, and one didn’t… I can’t figure out which is which, though…
Scene: gun store interior, three men visible. Two are behind the counter, working on rifles, while one is poring over the holster rack directly opposite.
Gun Dude 1: Wow, we have a Norinco AND a Polytech in stock!
Gun Dude 2: You should buy both of them, add to your dream gun collection.
GD1: (Snort) I don’t want the original, much less Asian knockoffs.
GD2: Well, you could always build a semi-auto .45-70, take it bear hunting… (chuckles)
GD1: If I go bear hunting, I want something more substantial than a .45-70.
GD2: Like a Tomahawk cruise missile?
GD1: Yeah.
(Conversation turns to a female customer who hunts grizzlies in Alaska with a .300 Win Mag.)
GD2: Yeah, I think a .300 Win Mag is about the bear minimum…
Dixie: (Groans, puts face in hands.)
GD2: Hey, I had to do it.
GD1: Man, my kids would’ve loved that one…
And yes, I did pick up a new holster. Add in the new camera I just got in, and I’ll finally be able to complete the task I’ve been tagged to do since… 19 July.
Yesterday morning, I had to go in early (oh so very early) so that my team and I could finish up the prep work for our presentation. (Propose and do the paperwork for a business in the area, project your market, and do estimated pro-formas for your first year.) I left the house so early, in fact, that even the fast food joints were closed, and there was no coffee left in the coffeepot when I left the house, so… hundred mile drive with no java. Cue Cranky Dixie transitioning into Utter Asshole Dixie.
Then something happened. One of the local radio stations starts the day by having a schoolkid recite the Pledge, and then playing The Star Spangled Banner. On the very first note of the anthem, the Sun broke through the clouds and began the day. Cranky Dixie quickly became Decently Pleasant Dixie, and the day became okay.
Still, we had three and a half hours to ready ourselves for a presentation and the (guaranteed) grilling from our professor. One member had been in Orlando for the weekend (and we hadn’t gotten in touch with her), one had to make a side trip, so I and the two other guys in the group madly dashed through the prep work, got PowerPoint ready, and went over our talking points. The rest of the group got there, we finished everything up, caught up on the weekend happenings, and rushed over to our class.
Professor, we who are about to fail salute thee!
You get 20 minutes, total. Our group ran 19:59– no questions for us, which seemed to upset our prof… or so the evil glance he gave us as he walked out of class would say. (Also, he’s got a poker face to be proud of– he was totally impassive– while he was watching the presentation. “… he’s got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll’s eyes.”) So, hopefully he was just upset at us not opening up our soft underbellies…
Side note: this group is essentially The Libertarian Group. Our first idea for a business was essentially Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms… with the possibility of adding Sex, Drugs, and Rock n’ Roll to the mix. (We actually went with a burger joint catering to college students. Much easier, much less likely to get us run out of class.) However, even we draw the line at what happened to our female team-mate this weekend– she drove some friends to (and from) Orlando on a Universal Studios trip, for which they repaid her by letting her stay in the car while they went to a strip club. Guys, be gentlemen– share the driving, pay for the gas, and don’t take her to a gorram strip club…
Um, yeah, you see, my “easy” classes are kicking my butt. On the funny note, I just used my new-but-now-well-used Turabian guide to cite a teacher’s lecture in a report… to that teacher.
[Insert "Dat's the Chicago way" joke here.]
Lately, I’ve found myself saying “Self, there’s no way things could get any more surreal.” Then things get more surreal, and Self simply shrugs his shoulders. Lessons to learn? One, talking to yourself isn’t a great sign of mental stability. Two, when life hands you apples, make apple juice.
Warning: naughty, naughty language warning. Viewer discretion is at the viewer’s discretion.
If you don’t recognize the group that did it, I present you with the video that made the rounds a while back.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go put on some Zeppelin and eat cheddar cheese.
