Memories 04

Sights were calibrated, parallax was minimal.  A manufacturing quirk placed the impact point slightly high and right, but I was already used to compensating for that.

The hardware: a Daisy Powerline 970

The projectile: .177 lead field pellets.

The target: an aluminum can (identity confirmed).

The range: whatever the width was from the grass to the far side of the tractor garage.

Vicinity was clear, devoid of sisters.  Windage was nill.  Time to engage.

I was no novice at this.  Taking too deep a breath would cause imbalance–too shallow and natural muscle twitches would be exacerbated.  I inhaled slightly more than a standard breath, held it, took approximate aim, and let the sights fall onto target as I slowly exhaled, squeezing the trigger in time with alignment.

The crack of expanding air indicated discharge.  The round, as expected, impacted the can with the standard ping, knocking it over.  More pumps would have increased velocity, preventing the can from falling.  But that was unnecessary at this range.  The target was down.

One shot.  One kill.  Time for exfil.

***

The average human reaction time is .215 seconds.

Along the projectile’s path, I noticed a small gray dot.  The dot became larger.  And in less than .215 seconds, the pellet I had just fired impacted my right cheekbone.

Yep

You’ll shoot your eye out with those things.

The lesson: check your background.  The barn siding was corrugated steel.  Some things only need to be learned once.

–Simon

Peasant Food

In the western world, the old world, food which grew below ground was deemed inferior and suited only for the dirt-grubbing lowly peasantry.

But how good could cooking possibly be without onions, carrots, and garlic?

Carrots we are harvesting aplenty, and more on the onion situation later.  For now though, here’s the garlic:

No vampires in the basement

As an experiment, Liz planted seed last fall.  Turns out it works, so there will definitely be more of this next year.

Now I’m just waiting for tomatoes.

–Simon

…Fuck Yeah!

America!

I take pains to explain that any sense of nationalism I posses is due to an appreciation for Americana, not ‘Merica.  The former is Norman Rockwell, the latter Chevy pickup trucks with Republican bumper stickers.  It’s a distinct difference.

But one day a year, the two are one in the same.  Here’s how we celebrated Independence Day 2021:

Burgers! (My home-ground beef, of course. I also started grilling burgers on a sheet of foil, so the juices reabsorb. Mmmm.)
Glowsticks and disco dancing?
Tailgating for fireworks. It’ll be a sad day if they ever develop this spot.
Yeah!
That is all

–Simon

Models

My theory (which is not terribly PC) of the modeling industry is that because it’s based on the stereotypical premise of high employment of homosexual men designing clothing, that the clothes being designed are either for homosexual men, or women who they want to look like homosexual men (i.e. thin and lacking feminine curves).

Granted my search was likely a big factor in the image results.

I was trying to find a penguin print pattern shirt to replace one my dad had bought for himself about 30 years ago in New Zealand, which had finally worn out.  Personally, I found the shirt funny and eccentric (perfect to suit my father), but not particularly gay.  The internet, it seems, disagrees:

Only one of the above results even sports penguins, so maybe “penguin” has another meaning.

And don’t blame me.  This isn’t being offensive.  It’s extrapolating objective observational data from search engine algorithms that I didn’t design.

Maybe Dad needs to choose a different power animal.

–Simon