Eau du Loterie

Despite what your local state might spout, playing the lottery is not exactly a smart investment choice. Yeah I know supposedly the money goes to schools and of course there is nothing wrong with sticking a quick pick tick in your sock for a special occasion. But remember even if your talcumed tootsies are extra minty fresh, no matter how the odds appear to nod, the true motto of the lotto is definitely NOTTO! 

Instead of having NO CHANCE to win I prefer to take a gamble on life’s little lotteries that seem to pop up every day. You know the ones, where the local fast food chain will let you play some lame game to win a ‘buy one get one’ burger or fries for free. Oh sure you scoff now, but how many times have you put a buck down on the state lottery and DOUBLED your money – worse still, even with BBQ sauce those rub-off tickkies aren’t too tasty.

I also noticed that even Lay’s, the potato chip people have a million dollar prize for simply suggesting a new flavor combo idea for their crisps. Now believe me, this is the kind of lottery that I should have in the BAG! I have spent years out-sizing belts and blowing buttons to research the best flavored snack foods so imagine my delight in the thought of possibly getting PAID back in something other than empty calories.

So while weekly 50 million folks fixate on their springy ping pong power balls and weave dreams and high hopes that their days are TRULY numbered, I will be enjoying an even better combo of crispy chips and a sensational salty opportunity of my own. Yeah I know the odds are still against me since it's doubtful that the Fates and haters will ever truly appreciate my 'baked bean n' egg flavored 'taters'. Don't worry though, my feelings won't get hurt. Like ALL lotteries after playing, it's not the bad taste that they leave in your mouth - it's just that they all STINK!

The pleasures of elections

Well regardless of who your favorite son or daughter did in the tallies, the pleasure of elections is when they are OVER! I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic. I am actually thrilled to live in a country where I can exuberantly stand up and be counted without literally losing my head!

At the end of the day though, it is nice to put all of the constant noise and chaff to bed. I think overall though, politics must certainly be good for the economy. I mean just look at how many tv and radio ads are sold. I would guess that if you owned and were paying the bills for a TV station, you would wish for an election vote EVERY Tuesday and a Superbowl EVERY Sunday.

I am not sure what the big hyped surprise of this election is however? How many of your friends would remain so if you simply ignored them even when they were waving their arms, sending smoke signals, and pleading with you to slow down and LISTEN? The electorate felt ignored and cheated so what do you expect, roses and champagne or a big old kick in the pants?

Now don’t get me wrong, there is no mighty mandate here. The people just went on a ‘bad date’ so it is going to be awhile before they warm up to finding ‘Mr. or Mrs. Right’ again. If the newbies saunter into Washington expecting to be loved or even liked without earning their way back into our hearts, they will end up lonely and kicked to the curb next time too.

The biggest pleasure of this election might be, if we are lucky, our politicians, regardless of party, will start treating the U.S. Treasury with the same care and respect that they do their own checkbooks? Hmmm, on second thought though that is probably a dangerous proposition … I bet their personal checks bounce even bigger than their overinflated egos!

Bottle Cap Intelligence Test

Whether I am drinking Diet Coke or eating Froot Loops for breakfast (only rarely at the same time), it seems that a new marketing trend has invaded my cupboard along with the weevils. The packaging of many common products are adorned with ‘points’ or some kind of reward coupon. If you save up enough of these bottle caps, hunks of cardboard, or torn wrappers, you can bundle them up and send off for, as the game shows say, ‘gifts and valuable prizes’.

Generally I am all for the idea of promoting brand loyalty and giving your ‘best’ customers something back. So while yes I’m appreciative of the chance to get something free, I am less excited about saving up little bags of trash and rebate forms all over the house. It is not that I am too ‘good’ for such activity, it is actually just because that extra stuff confuses me while wading through my normal household garbage in search of my car keys and wallet.

Now days, it seems that every recreational outing with the family ends up being a fishing trip for these stupid bottle cap points. For some odd reason my daughter seems embarrassed to be seen with me as I stick my head in garbage and tear up soda cartons like a mental midget. Amazingly, along with the soda cap points, there are LOTS of uneaten goodies in those trash cans, so I am kind of shocked it took so long for this trend to go main-stream. After all, didn’t every ‘Baby Boomer’ grow up with Dubble Bubble gum with collectable comics? I also used to have a pretty decent assortment of those Cracker Jack ‘spit’ tattoos where you would lick your arm and transfer that stinky-ink prize on to your skin.

At least now, prizes have moved past THAT valueless junk to some really great stuff like a cereal promotion that offers first-run DVD’s for your repeated patronage. The problem is, that ‘blockbuster’ movie literally is about construction people crushing rocks! Also, after saving Coca Cola points for months, you can get great magazine subscriptions to popular favorites like ‘Reader’s un-digested’ or “NewsWEAK”. If I’m lucky, I only need to drink another $80 worth of soda to get a colorful branded beach ball prize for only the cost of ‘shipping and handling’. One side of that ‘peachy’ ball demands in big letters - ‘Drink a Coke’ and on the other side, it says - ‘THINK, u Dope!’ Oh, don’t worry, isn’t it obvious – I’ll continue to do BOTH religiously!

Ridin’ my Soapbox

This last weekend was the 73rd annual Soapbox Derby championships in Akron, Ohio. For those of you that have never seen an ‘Our Gang ‘ movie matinee, this is an amateur race competition for kids that began in the 1930’s. The young drivers and their 4 wheeled race cars compete around the country on straight local roads with a continual downhill grade. The cars are built by the kids and their race teams to best take advantage of gravity, aerodynamics, and a driver’s course prowess. Every summer, winners of local races around the world, meet up at ‘Derby Downs’ in Akron, Ohio U.S.A. for a week-long extravaganza of events, media hoopla, and eventually elimination matches to ultimately crown the world champions.

In my father’s day, participating in the Soapbox Derby meant literally finding crates, random skate wheels and parts, to fabricate and point a rolling ‘thrift store’ down a hill with limited braking, steering control, and safety requirements. In modern times, the Derby race cars are strictly regulated to use the ‘exact’ same specifications among all racers. This includes weight restrictions, uniform wheels, car size, brakes, steering, and obviously great precautions for the driver’s general safety.

What reminded me of all this was that I noted they are now filming a movie called ’25 Hill’, a drama depicting a kid’s heroic struggle to fulfill his deceased father’s dream to race in the Soapbox Derby. In the last three out of five years, the real life National Soapbox Derby organization has been in the red and is struggling to survive hard economic times and loss of corporate sponsorship. Actor Corbin Bernsen has made it his mission to produce this movie to try and revitalize the public’s awareness of the Soapbox Derby with it’s rich and storied past. With a little luck, if the family movie hits a chord with the general public, it could help bootstrap the Derby’s reputation as well as its meager bank account.

You see I have a tiny vested part of my emotional past in this organization. My daughter competed in the St. Louis Regional Soapbox Derby in the Super Stock and Master’s class cars for three years and won the St. Louis Championship in 2002. She went on to compete in Akron too, however lost her race that year and was eliminated. Still, It was an amazing experience and the town treated every one of those racing kids like celebrities everywhere they went.

So, if you ever get the opportunity to go watch or support one of these local racing events, your family would surely benefit from the experience. Though the cars may not look as unique or comical as their 1930’s ancestors, the kids’ determination to succeed is the same. That’s good enough reason for me to at least buy a movie ticket when ’25 Hill’ comes to town. The only thing is that I hope the ‘drive-in’ movie theater is DOWNtown – with no motor, Soapbox Derby cars only ‘do’ hills in ONE direction!

The hair and music bond

When I was in 8th grade I was honored with a very prestigious award. No I didn’t run faster, or jump higher than my peers – I simply unfurled my Rapunzel length hair – ON MY LEGS! Yes eat your heart out people, while so many of you spend hours on end trying to reign in the mane , I got rewarded for my ‘preceding’ leggy hairline.

Don’t worry, this was not some odd-ball ‘Hairy’ Potter private school full of nerdy outcasts – it was a summer camp full of musicians obviously battling fatigue and a bit of healthy pre-teen follicle fascination. Somehow I was ‘volunteered’ to enter this competition and with ruler in hand the arbiters of 'all things furry' sampled my curly leg locks. When pulled taut, at nearly an inch long, the hair on my calf outdistanced all comers by at least a 1/8 inch. I received a bottle of Nair and a handsome certificate suitable for framing.

Now it is hard to imagine that this was my first experience away from home. As an only child, my favorite companion ordinarily was ‘Privacy’. I was none too happy to be dropped off in the woods by my parents to face hundreds of these weirdo, kinetic ‘music geeks’. Most musicians (excluding myself of course) are already a bit maladjusted, so a genuine ‘Deliverance-induced’, chill ran down my spine, at the thought of being abandoned in the woods without silver bullets, garlic, or even a kazoo. However after my camp-mates shared gruel, chores, and our passion for music; inevitable friendships formed, and soon I was willing to whip my unshaven leg out and show anyone who dared a gander.

So the next time you prepare to use a machete to hack back all of your precious peach fuzz, you may want to think twice. You never know when that Amazon jungle on your legs may come in handy to help you bond and win some well-deserved recognition among your peers. Of course for the full effect, you may want to hire a couple of toothless musicians to play ‘Dueling Banjos’ to set the mood. That’s sure to ‘win friends and influence people’, or at the very least, raise those teensy ‘little hairs’ on the back of your neck!

America’s got talent but no time

I stumbled on to this steroidal ‘Gong Show’ redux the other night named America’s Got Talent. I know some of you are watching it because my In-laws seem to enjoy it and they are a good bell-weather for any television programming that involves ‘judges’.

I watched a few minutes of the variety acts and honestly the spirit of Ed Sullivan would be thrilled – if he had the time. Geez, this show takes forever to set-up around 8 different acts for 1 to 2 minute performances. Believe me if Vaudeville would have taken lessons from this type of entertainment, that bygone era would have been remembered as the ‘Snoring 20’s. I mean 10 ACTUAL minutes of performance time is a pretty small ratio out of an hour show of eye-candy staging and endless set-up prattle.

And then the whole judging component ala ‘American Idol’ – does anyone in Hollywood have a single original idea? Why can’t we toss water balloons at the marginal acts we don’t like or let the judges shoot fireworks at the really bad ones. Better yet, narrow down a face-off between similar acts and then after their performance, let them beat the stuffing out of each other with downy-soft pillows. I think that, is a smack-down television entertainment, win-win for the ages – Jerry Springer meets Major Bowes.

Hey now don’t accuse me of being an uppity Broadway snob as I have liked my share of sophisticated TV variety shows in the past, like that high-brow cornpone known as ‘Hee Haw’. And do you remember the ‘Nick and Jessica Variety Hour’ – now that was quality programming. HEY, don’t judge me! Yeah I admit it, I mostly watched to see what kind of ‘HOT’ revealing dresses that ‘she’ wore on stage. Oooh why that Diva, Minnie Pearl drove me so WILD I’ll never know? Maybe it was the straw hat or her unhurried yet sultry pig-call 'Howdeeee!' that sealed the deal? Regardless, to go from hillbilly to headliner - now that REALLY does take some time and serious American talent!

Adult Diapers – Duty Calls

Can we talk privately for a minute? What would you do if you HAD to wear an adult diaper? No don’t worry, that LAST piece of my Missouri dignity still seems to be intact, unless of course I eat too much roadkill stew. It’s just that today I had to take leave of my ‘blog-droppings’ to RETURN some super DOOper, Depends adult ‘diapies’ to a Target store, and it got me thinking.

I know I know, it is a bad idea when I start to think, but believe me when you have to stand in front of a cash register lady and sheepishly hand over not one, but TWO packs of ‘panty hampers’ you’ll be trying to think, OF ANYTHING ELSE too! Couldn’t the stupid things be colorless white like normal underwear, rather than powder blue and pale pink WITH FLOWERS. I’m telling you, anytime I have been around diapers in the past, I may have been thinking I was in a field, but it was definitely NOT filled with fragrant flowers.

This whole thing started because of my wife’s air race adventure a couple of weeks ago. You might recall that originally she was scheduled to fly a very slow aircraft more than 2400 statute miles across the country. As a precaution, the crew decided to carry these ‘load-bearing bloomers’ rather than risk a mid-air explosion.

As luck would have it (for the pilots) the slow plane was replaced at the last minute with a very fast aircraft. I guess that karma caught up with me too, since inexplicably my duty became to dump the empty undies back at the store. Yes, I’ve been promoted from the race team’s dedicated ‘blogmaster’, to the adult diaper delivery boy, all in one day. Oh goody, the BOTTOM must be getting really close now!

Frosty World Mug

Like many Americans, I am not an overly enthusiastic soccer fan. I actually appreciate the athleticism of the sport greatly, it is just the scoring is too low. Everybody who watches sports love a good back and forth close game, but come on – Zero to Zero ties or One to Zero wins? Plainly not enough scoring!

And I have to be honest, have you SEEN the world cup? I’m not sure what it is but it ‘ain’t no cup’! It kind of looks like an egg resting atop a tree or some kind of growth. I know even the Superbowl trophy is a little wimpy looking too but this soccer cup needs an immediate upgrade to at least a frosty tall MUG!

My kid played soccer once when she was quite young. I am the least competitive type of parent you will ever meet regarding team sports. I want the kids to just have fun and learn something especially when they are very young. However, honestly, my daughter and a group of 10 other kids would kind of push the ball around the edges of the arena and follow it in a huddle. My daughter would politely wait for a turn to kick the ball in a mass of ankles, stuffed socks, and shoes.

That was so frustrating to watch – just kick the thing already and move it around. But no, the packed huddle would continue to shuffle around the arena for 30 excruciating minutes. It is no wonder I have no tolerance for the game now, because I have a Pavlovian response to immediately sleep after a few minutes of exposure. I am not sure if this is triggered by soccer balls, colorful socks, or my dill pickled & DULL brain? Just in case now, I only wear white socks and avoid soccer balls religiously. Hmmm, strange, I always seem to be sleepy when I write this blog … there must be a soccer ball or some stinky colored socks around somewhere?

McBlogger Pilot

Ok just so you don’t think I am a lifeless vampire who never leaves the confines of my bat cave to blog, I actually took a little road trip yesterday. Yes I drove 160 miles one way to track down my wife who is flying all over the ‘right’ half of the country in an air race.

I am not complaining as it was nice to get away from my hutch and see some of the countryside in full summer bloom. Fortunately the air conditioning in the car was working though as it was just plain sweaty hot everywhere I went. I found the wife under the plane studying bug stains or something pilots have to worry about. She was airing out the cockpit and herself as the crew flies ‘ventless’ to increase airspeed. So that’s why all those egocentric pilots think they’re so ‘ HOT’.

I took lots of photos and we got a chance to chat for an hour or so while the airport fueled the beast and the crew waited for favorable tailwinds between Chicago thunderstorms. It was actually a pleasure to pay $250 for fuel this time since the credit card company midway through the race DECLINED the card. They had suspected fraud because how could somebody be using the same credit card in 4 or 5 states in less than 24 hours? It is not so hard to do when life literally ‘flies’ by!

After the wife and her partner took off and buzzed the tower to officially start the race clock, I got back in my much slower and delightfully chilly car. Shortly thereafter, I drove to a local McDonalds to upload my pictures and post to the air race blog. I kind of liked the different atmosphere of sitting in public, looking out the McWindow while I typed. It feels strangely liberating to be free and wireless in a foreign place but doing very familiar things – sort of like a pilot only a lot COOLER!

FIRST LOOK – Air Race Postcard

To the three or four of you who actually visit my blog daily, you may remember that my wife T, was about to embark on a 2100 mile air race this week. Yeah this little buggy ride will take her and her partner on a circuitous jaunt from Central Florida to the Western Missouri border and then back to Eastern Maryland.

Well RACE DAY IS HERE and begins today at 0800H EDT from Ft. Meyers, Florida. The plane is prepped and the routes are planned. Now everything depends on weather and a healthy dose of GOOD MOJO. I know my wife is serious about this thing because I got a note today, that to reduce weight, she is shipping a bunch of clothes back and an empty computer case. I wisely did not mention that if she stopped eating and went to the gym once in awhile, she could have reduced weight too.

So what’s the deal, are the pilots and their laptop just going to fly around naked for the next 4 days? No I doubt it as I am sure my wife kept a few duds that she can wash the stink out in a hotel sink along the way. Oh sorry, you probably thought flying small planes was all about the romance of soaring in open blue skies as free as a bird. Well forget it. Not only in an air race, but for most of the time in little planes, somebody or something is always in your way these days. You always have to be mindful of the weather if not now, a half hour down the route and it can be VERY unforgiving. Particularly in a race, the pilots will probably close their cabin cooling air vents to decrease drag and will run the engine to peak performance – both are ‘hot’ propositions but not in the ‘cool’ sense.

So yes, unless Mother Nature steps up to throw a monkey wrench in our plans, this should be quite a show over the next few days. The pilots will post live during the race to their blog, and I will post photo updates regularly during each day of the race as well. By tradition whenever ‘T’ flies in one of these charity races, we produce a postcard for the team to carry, sign, and give away in the host cities and airports. As you may remember we had a late plane change this year, so I am very behind in my media production duties.

So consider this your back stage pass into air racing, because other than the pilots, you are the FIRST to see this postcard artwork as it heads to press. Enjoy, and if you have a few extra nickels left in your piglet bank for charity, please consider donating to Wings of Hope. Uh,yeah we borrowed a few hundred gallons of their fuel and it's my guess, they are hoping that we might pay them back? Cheers!

Plane talk about Air Racing

Ok folks, I usually try to post any serious hard news stuff on the overnight feed. But today I temporarily reversed the trend since I wanted to make sure that those of you who refuse to get up before Noon would take a gander at this post. This is longer than most of my stuff so don’t get whiney after an extra paragraph or two.

My wife is about to head down to Fort Meyers, Florida to participate in the annual Air Race Classic. This is the oldest aviation race exclusively for women pilots. Its origins are from the 1930’s when Amelia Earhart was buzzing the country in what was then dubbed the Powder Puff Derby. My wife’s team has a temporary FAA designator as “Classic 47” and I will maintain their blog at this link. The 2010 race will take place on June 22nd through June 25th and will move from Florida up to Georgia, over to Alabama, Arkansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, West Virginia, and then finally end in Frederick, Maryland.

Now ordinarily I would have announced the race website about a month in advance as there is a lot of interesting preparation that takes place with the plane and pilots. But this year, we have been incredibly swamped trying to make a 1953 Piper Tri Pacer race ready. But no matter how hard we tried, every time we pushed the little plane to the next level, something else would throw us a curve. Due to a unique seat design in the Tri Pacer, my wife and I developed three versions of rudder pedal extensions to allow better tail-end coordination. As soon as that was perfected, our radio was picking up noise at the control tower. From there the vacuum pump needed replacement, then the plane seemed to be running a tad hot on the manifold pressure and on it went.

Sadly, the team came to the reality that while we could work to keep the plane safe on our own turf, it is a much taller order to do so flying 2000 miles from home. So literally at the last minute (yesterday), just 3 days before the pilots and plane need to report to Florida – we pulled the plane from the race. Yes it took a little work, but we quickly filed the paperwork, insurance, and immediately began preparing an alternate and ultra modern aircraft as a substitute race plane. While it is a testament to our sponsor, Wings of Hope and our pilot team’s dedication it is also a little sad. We really wanted to run this particular Tri Pacer because it was country music star, Roy Clark’s first airplane and the OLDEST plane to attempt the race.

So the race is STILL ON and my wife and her partner are ready to go. If you get a chance, check-in on the team blog to see where Classic 47 is on the map and whatever interesting pictures they have captured along the way. If you live close enough by to visit one of the airports, you may be in for a treat as the planes buzz the field with a low-level fast pass over the official timers station. Depending on weather, fuel stops, and individual plane range, you may also get to see the race planes and meet the pilots up-close along any of the race legs. Check out this link for the Air Race Classic official 2010 airport stops.

Both at the race start in Fort Meyers, Florida and the race terminus in Frederick, Maryland, the crews and planes will be on the ground for extended periods of time. Usually there are festive events happening around the airport and it is a good chance to see some living history for the whole family. If you catch a glimpse of Classic 47 on the ground, introduce yourself to my wife. And while your at it, pick up a bug sponge and clean up the leading edges on the Wings and prop – it’ll make the plane fly faster!

When good rules go bad

I admit it, I am a bit of a ‘rules’ kind of guy. I prefer things to be fairly straightforward, vividly explicit, and my rainbows to come in two colors - black and white. It really is not my fault since my first and ONLY internship in college was at a legal clinic. Even as a lowly intern, it did not take too long to realize that no physics are involved at all - the world ACTUALLY revolves around contracts and the rule of law.

Now of course my parents were pretty careful to set me straight too whenever I attempted to stray as a youngster. So given all that foundation for a lawful life, it is no wonder that I am tuned a tad tighter than a cheap guitar when it comes to rules. Today, it is fashionable to find shades of gray in most every law and it seems even the rules of grammar, ( such as the true meaning of ‘IS’) are apparently debatable.

Preamble ramble aside, rules truly ARE important, but in my life, probably the one overriding principle that has proven MORE critical, time and time again, is fundamental fairness. Oh no, I have opened that triple-locked and sealed door of interpretation – what happened to all that ‘holier than thou’ tough 'Texas Ranger' talk?

Well I have to admit, even though I am not much of a sports fan, I was frustrated that Detroit Tigers baseball pitcher, Armando Galarraga was denied a ‘perfect game’ due to a admittedly erroneous umpire call. Now mind you this was not any old ump-blunder , this was the LAST OUT of the LAST INNING of a NO HITTER! There have been only 20 perfect games in the entire history of baseball and Galarraga delivered the goods for a 21st yesterday and deserves the appropriate recognition.

Now there is no CRISIS in baseball – this was an admitted error on the part of a human umpire. Replay tapes clearly show the batter was out and everyone knows it. Major League Baseball does not have to change any long term rules about the use or non-use of replays in games. The Commissioner simply has to step up and RIGHT AN OBVIOUS WRONG and reverse the call. It is a matter of fairness and is EXACTLY why we still have HUMANS with REAL gray matter in leadership positions judging anything or any contest. Our brains are BETTER because they are not rigid and inflexible like computerized machines.

Sports MUST compete with a set of common rules or else chaos would ensue and record books would become meaningless. However in rare and clearly SPECIAL circumstances, FAIRNESS should be the prevailing rule and the letter of the law must take a backseat. True leadership is knowing when those unusual and special times have arrived at your doorstep; and when history DEMANDS the use of your moral prerogative, power, and BRAINS to do something about it. See, even a ‘rules’ guy like me can have a heart – uh … but let’s wait and see, that opinion may yet be reversed upon closer inspection?


LATE UPDATE: This piece was prepared 12 hours prior to scheduled posting. Since that time, ML Baseball commissioner Bud Selig said 'He will not reverse' the bad call. But on a happier note, GM executive Mark Reuss, GAVE A BRAND NEW CORVETTE to pitcher Galarraga for his 'Grand Sportsmanship'. Way to go GM - I call that a class-act. Yet another reason to BUY American!

Turkey Shoot

As a young boy my father taught me to shoot. He was a superb Marksman in the Army. It’s maybe not something you talk about today, but when I was a kid, shooting was still thought of as an honorable skill, even if you were not going into law enforcement. It was no big deal really as my Dad was taught to shoot by my Grandfather and so on. I remember at the same time I was getting Ranger Rick conservation magazines in the mail, I also got stickers as a member of the National Rifle Association. In that era, guns were not scary – they were tools to be used for the specific purpose of motivating lead toward tin cans and paper targets.

Like any tool, rifles and sidearms were to be treated with respect. I shot guns for fun but we never had FUN with guns – there is a difference and the line was made very clear. All my life I have lived in rather large cities, so it has been fairly impractical to practice target shooting at home. No matter how progressive your neighbors are, they do not look kindly on random gunshots mixing with the sounds of their kids bouncing basketballs and gardeners blowing leaves off driveways.

Happily that problem was easily solved with a nice Daisy BB gun rifle. I could set up targets in the back yard and shoot as much as I wanted. I really loved shooting that gun. Eventually my Father was confident in my aim enough to take me down and enter in a Turkey shooting contest at the local police gun range. I did enjoy the target competition and did well. Sadly however I did not win the frozen turkey first prize and blamed it on the rifle's weak power at 50 yards. Though un-frozen birds might have been a little more exciting to introduce to my Daisy, my parents insisted that moving targets were not allowed. Oddly however, that rule somehow did not apply to my own father. Yes, just like the stories you read about in papers, he thought my BB gun wasn’t loaded (strange since it rattled with BB’s when it was). As I ran and cavorted between backyard tree trunks, he put a bead on me at better than 75 yards and SHOT ME in the hip while I was moving.

First, I could not believe that my own Dad shot me?! I finally understood how Issac must have felt when ol’ daddy Abraham was ready to slip him a shiv – why couldn’t a stupid Ram have taken that BB for me instead? Secondly, despite my injured flank, I was appreciative that my gun had a good enough set of fixed sights to shoot that straight. Further, prone fire at a stationary target takes practice, but for my Dad to lead a fleeting target, between obstacles and while standing – well honestly, that was a pretty impressive shot. Yeah my father felt bad and profusely apologized between his poorly suppressed giddiness and shame. To this day he swears it was an innocent mistake and he didn’t mean it. I still think it was a little education for blowing the shooting contest - the rifle seemed to perform JUST FINE? Yes, that rifle had finally bagged a plump turkey, but suspiciously, this one wasn’t frozen!