The Dirt wrote:Any of you guys want to throw in your opinions? Not that they will carry any weight with the redhead, but maybe I can overwhelm her with sheer numbers...
Mitch, when you're in your loincloth/turban sitting in your lotus position with your arms outstretched chanting your mantra, pleeeeease let your wife take just one little picture to share with the rest of us.
Only because we want to learn how to do it too, ol' pal. Nothing more. Trust me.
Opinions, Dirt? OK. My older brother and I had BB guns when we were 8, and Dad always let us burn up some .22s when we went out with him. But I longed for something bigger. When my brother turned 12 and got his first huntin' license, I was green with envy. Now my old man loved to hunt rabbits, and always kept a beagle, but my older bro didn't like to hunt small game. I begged and pleaded for dad to take me huntin' with him, and he said since I equaled my brother in height, weight, and hair color, I could use his license. Away we went. Dad had got a good deal on a model 12 Winchester 12 gauge pump, and it had already been cut down for a youth. 1 inch was missing from the stock, and somebody had ruined the beautiful lines of the barrel by cutting it to 26" and installing a poly-choke. The old man says, "Ya think ya can shoot that thing."? He sets up an old five gallon bucket about 30 yards away, and although we had a box of Remington Sure Shot low based shells, he slips in one of his high brass 1and 1/4 oz. field loads, screws the choke down, (it goes about another 1 and 1/2 chokes PAST Full), and hands it to me. I slaps it to my shoulder and touched the trigger. The gun recoiled up and back and bloodied my nose, but the 5 gallon can leaped off the ground and then tumbled to a stop. I was in 7th heaven. I became the old mans' small game partner from then on. The day I got my first 2 rabbits, I yelled out that "I got 'im"!!, and the old man was so happy he threw his Jones hat in the air and shot it! It was the fall of 1960, and I was 10 years old. 2 years later when I was legally old enough to hunt, Dad brought home another beautiful shotgun, but that's another story. Get your boy a gun, Pete. You know you can take the Hunter safety course with him, I don't think ya have to be 12 to attend. As long as you're supervisin' (and keep the gun locked up when you are not available) the Redhead should be ok. I raised 4 kids with guns sittin' every corner of my bedroom cause the guncase wouldn't hold them all, and none of 'em ever touched 'em when I wasn't there.
Now for part 2. Ain't never gonna happen, Dirt. For one thing, you DON'T want to see a 318lb, 6'4" bearded man with eyeglasses wearing a loin cloth. Second, I don't want to wear a loin cloth. Third, my left knee is so bad, if I got into the Lotus position, you'd have to bury me that way 'cause I'd never get out!

And fourth, I skipped that idea and got drunk at Gomers.
If you agree with the Progressives, it's freedom of speech. If you disagree, it's hate speech. There are no alternatives.