British Invasion, Scottish Body Armor, and That American Life.
So I went down to the shooting range today (Watashi kyou hojitsu "ranju" ikimashita). You know the one I'm talking about...the one across from the prison next to all the bail bondsmen. The one swarming with people out on bail and bounty hunters (Bounty hunters! We don't need their scum!). Yeah. So I'm in there for a while and just as I get down to my last half-box, the British invasion comes in. We're talking like six British dudes who are all gung ho about this shooting thing (and very n00b) sporting fresh haircuts that seemed to say: "Holy crap! I didn't know it was going to be this hot!" Following the British Invasion are these two chicks in skimpy pink dresses wearing hemp sandals who are obviously uncomfortable in this hot, smoky, and at least suggestively violent environment. Well whatever. While the British dudes tried to convince the women to try their lot, I turned back to that task at hand. Right after I light off a .357 through a ported revolver (titanium...yeowch), I hear an exclamation of pain and notice that Barbie #1 and Barbie #2 did not have their earmuffs on properly. Nor, in fact did the rest of the Redcoats. So I apologized to everyone there, and made sure they all had muffs on before I turned back to my target. I also said sorry to Barbie #1 who seemed to be having a bad day. I was about to explain her S.O.'s insensitivity to her discomfort on account of that the testicles can put an extraordinary amount of weight on the brain (because they are hung directly from the medulla by a bungee cord). But when she opened her mouth, I could not understand a word she said. Her brogue was thick enough to stop a bullet! I thought about brushing off my Gaelic and explaining to her that as long as she kept talking she could walk downrange and be safe from all manner of projectiles, but I got distracted because one of the Brits referred to the gun I was using as "the daddy." I'm not sure exactly what "the daddy" is, but I pretty much got the idea. Then some skinny kid in the next stall lit off a .454 Casull and the British though he was "the daddy." I proceeded to expend my remaining cartridges, and rather than listen to a discussion about whether I was "the daddy" or the Skinny Casull was "the daddy", I left.
Once I got into the shop area of the range, I saw that Scottish Barbie #1 and Scottish Barbie #2 were waiting outside. I felt kind bad for them, because it was obvious that the other Redcoats hadn't taken the time to gently ease them into their man-fun. At that moment, the Spanish Armada came pouring in the door. That's right. A heft, healthy Latino man, his wife (with baby!) and like seven thousand kids of multiple genders all clamoring about what they'd get to shoot. I left before things got too hot.
On the way home in the car, I the listen to Ira Glass do an episode of "This American Life" which takes place on...you guessed it: a shooting range. This one is in Baghdad, and NPR's reporter (Ann? Amy?) is interviewing this guy named Hank. A civilian contracter (read: merc) teaching the Iraqi Army how to shoot. Here's a quote:
"Right here, where you're standing....that's the frontier of freedom. That smell you smell is the smell of freedom. The smell of powder burned for a noble cause."
I'm gonna go out on a limb here, Hank, and guess that you have a mustache. Am I right? Riiiiight? Of course I am.
And while I'm being right, is an episode of "This American Life" that takes place in Iraq, really about THIS American life? Isn't it more like THAT American Life? Because really, I'll be no one in Iraq listens to the show while they're in theater. I should write Ira Glass and tell him that some of his episodes should be called THAT American life. BTW, the Japanese have three indicative words (articles?). Instead of "this" and "that", they have kore, sore, and are. Kore is this, right here, sore means that over there, and are means that Waaaaay over yonder. Are Amerikan jinsei!
Anyway, I gotta go. Arlene is coming down outside. amand_r has conjunctivitis.