Sep 14

Has GentleBot Got A Screw Loose? – Comedy Open Mic Round 30

Anyone who has been on Steemit for a while has probably had a visit from, or at least heard of, @gentlebot.

It’s a bot that goes around upvoting comments. I always thought that it only upvoted comments that contained a certain gentleness. That was what I was always told anyhow.

Then I saw this on a comment I had put on Amir’s excellent post.

Yeah, yeah, I know I didn’t really learn to keep my mouth shut. It’s just jokey jokes.

My point is that @gentlebot usually just upvotes comments that are all nice and shit. Does their filter just pick out the nice words like “funny” and “laugh” but disregard the sex and ass kicking? Maybe we’ll never know, but thanks for the $.19 and a reason to write a quick post for Comedy Open Mic before the deadline.

I nominate @gentlebot’s creator to compile a list of the funniest comments, if that’s even possible, and also @shadowspub because she never responds to my goading for a funny post.

 

Sep 05

Guns, Guns, Guns

Sorry about being all serious and shit, but here’s another hot topic that’s been bugging the hell out of me for years. It comes with its own vague, seemingly inaccurate info-poster type of thing, and a veritable trove of real information, theory, and emotions that are meant to sway you to my way of thinking.

It jammed a lot, if you were using cheap rounds.

It jams a lot if you use cheap rounds.

Before we get going, I want to say that I am a gun owner. I hunt, shoot skeet, and target shoot. I love guns, and I truly enjoy going out to a gravel pit with Jake and Daryl to blow off a few boxes of shells. I also love heading for the woods with the Larries to maybe get a few grouse for the freezer. I haven’t done either in a few years, but I really do enjoy it.

Okay, now for the probably wrong meme. I guess I can’t say it’s wrong, but it sure isn’t from this year.

My friend JC wrote and drew up a great post on the subject, after Sandy Hook, and it got me thinking a lot about it. I wonder exactly where I do stand on the issue. I like hunting, and I own guns. I say that as long as you’re a responsible gun owner, hunter or marksman, it should be perfectly fine to own a hunting rifle or a shotgun, because you safely store them, locked up tight like the law says you have to. You are also an ethical person, and would never use those guns to harm a human being, so why shouldn’t you enjoy them?

Paul's was in a nice, wooden, velvet-lined box

Paul’s was in a nice, wooden, velvet-lined box

Growing up, my stepdad, had a pistol. It was a Peacemaker replica .22. We would use it to shoot rabbits in the live trap by the garden as it wasn’t as noticeable as a rifle. This was back before gun safes were necessary, so putting it in a locked box in your closet was acceptable.

I was fairly perceptive, so I knew where the keys were for it, and the other guns. I never unlocked them without permission, because we were taught from an early age that guns were tools, not toys.

When Paul died, he left me his .270 semi-auto. It’s a great rifle, and I might use it one of these days. I might not though, because it’s in Ontario and I haven’t renewed my possession and acquisition license in years. I don’t deer hunt anymore, but I guess I’d take the rifle in case I see an elk. They are very yummy.

My dad gave me my Wingmaster 12 gauge for Christmas when I was 15. It is the most perfect gun that I’ve ever fired. The stock was cut down, and fits my stubby arms to a T. I got my Cooey .22 from Paul when I was 16, and Larry sanded down the stock for me. It was made in Cobourg, at the Cooey factory where my Great-Grandfather worked, so it has a great deal of meaning.

So perfect for me, and never misfires. Knock on wood.

So perfect for me, and never misfires. Knock on wood.

I also have an RCMP Centennial model 30-30 that my mom bought for me when she worked at Winchester. I couldn’t have been very old. It’s shiny with brass all over and it’s never been fired. It’s beautiful. They all are.

To me, anyhow.

Maybe a little flashy for hunting, but still a nice rifle. Model 94 is the best selling rifle of all time, I believe.

Maybe a little flashy for hunting, but still a nice rifle. Model 94 is one the best selling rifles of all time.

The problem is that not everyone is responsible, and just because you passed a course that’s designed for you to not fail (or was when I took it 30 years ago), doesn’t mean that you are safe to own or handle guns. Accidents happen, maybe you go for a drive and blow a hole through the floor of your company truck(true story), or maybe your kid finds the keys to your gun safe, and decides that now’s the time to exact revenge for the world treating him like a piece of goat shit since he got caught pulling his pud in the school washroom.

There are far too many possible scenarios that can go wrong here. Even if you are a super-safe, top-notch firearm owner, there is always a chance that someone will get a hold of your guns and use them negligently, or for a crime.

The long and short of it is that my guns mean a lot more to me than just a killing tool. Every time I clean them, hold them, shoot them, or just talk about them, I think about Mom, Paul, or Dad. They are all good memories because nothing bad ever happened to me.

It’s also true that I don’t need my guns. If I want to hunt I can use my bow. I think that muzzleloaders or single shot rifles and shotguns would be okay too for the folks that feed their families with wild meat because you get the range or the spread that you need, but you’d spend so much time reloading, that it wouldn’t really be very effective for a shooting spree. Semi-autos and other high magazined rifles and shotguns are great, but I really don’t see a need for the average person owning them, along with handguns.

Well, I think trappers and guides should be able to carry a handgun in the bush, at least where there is the danger of getting attacked by bears. Then again, maybe they shouldn’t get to have such an advantage. After all, they are the ones that are out there battling nature. Maybe nature should have a fighting chance.

I do see that they can turn a mentally ill person into quite an efficient killing machine though, so I don’t think that they should be available for the public to buy.

The fact is that it doesn’t matter what way I lean, or whether the government revokes the right to bear arms. If someone wants to kill a shitload of people at once, they will find a way to do it. If they can’t get guns, maybe they’ll use homemade explosives. They’ll do something because they’re sick. This isn’t a whimsical thought that just happens into their head for a second. They have time to think while they are going through the planning and execution stages. You don’t just wind up at a school or a theatre with a bunch of guns and say, “Fuck it. I’m here. I have the artillery. Might as well kill some motherfuckers.”

Or maybe you do. I really don’t know, and I hope I never find out.

Speaking of explosives. Why aren’t people up in arms that they can’t just go buy claymores or grenades? In general, folks don’t seem to mind that, but they sure take offence/defence to someone wanting to take away their automatic rifle with the 50 shot clip.

Run, take the money, here’s a bullet for your boyfriend, guns, guns, guns,

Aug 12

The Rescues – Blue

In case you were going to skip by this post, we wanted you to know that all SBD raised in the post will go to @tarc which is managed by @rhondak. Also, any SP and Steem will be converted to SBI shares in @tarc’s name. 

With the prices down so low, they need our help more than ever, so if you can’t help out with a donation, maybe put @tarc on autovote and share a post or two with your friends. 

He’s a good, climbing boy

Before you watch the video, there is something that we were going to say, but got sidetracked. I was told that I could get a dog, but it had to be after the wedding and it had to be a smart, non-shedding dog.

Over a month before the wedding, Gerri called me to the computer and showed me a photo of Blue and asked if that was a good dog. She thought he looked so nice and handsome.

I told her that I had been around a lot of hounds over my life, and they were all very friendly, loving dogs, but they were not known for their obedience or their non-shedding ability. I said that they were smart, but generally just when it came to hunting or escaping.

She then said that it would be okay to at least go and meet him, so we called and arranged to go meet him. It was an hour long drive and he had been neutered the day before, so as soon as they let him into the yard to meet us, he ran right by, had a shit against the wall, and then tried to find a hole in the fence.

Obviously he was a perfect match for us!

Okay, now on to the video.

Thanks for checking out this post and feel free to leave a comment, especially if you can share a pic and/or story of your rescue. We love those.

Jul 21

The Many Lives And Deaths Of Dovey-Doo – Chapter Four

It was 4:30 AM

Dover and Blue had heard something that woke them up, and then they smelled it.

It was definitely a fart. Dad was drinking beer again.

“Let us out!” They yelled in their highest pitched whine.

“Step on his nuts. He’ll wake up and make us get out.” Blue said, laughing. He didn’t think Dover was that stupid, but it turned out that he was. “Sorry, Dad.” Blue said as he danced around like a wood sprite.

The truck door opened. The world was theirs.

After they ran around and pissed on as many things as they could, they decided to go along the cliff at the far end of the beach. There were some pretty cool smells there last night, so who knew what the night had brought?

As Blue looked over the beach at the rocks and driftwood logs, he estimated it at about thirty feet to the craggy shelf below. That would be an ugly fall, he thought to himself as he turned to see Dover squeeze out two more drops on some wild strawberry plants.

“Hey, we should go back and have breakfast because it’s almost 6:30. They brought our old kibble. The one with the chicken.” Dover excitedly told Blue.

“It sounds like we might have to go back to that full-time. I heard them saying that feeding us raw was just a bit too expensive. They weren’t expecting the shipping to be so much.” Blue mentioned dismally. “You know, it seems like ever since you came along, I have had to do with less.”

“Yeah, but that kibble is good though. I like the raw food too, but I’m okay with the kibble. It’s better than the garbage Walmart food I had to eat at my last place. It was made of corn. You could taste it.”

“I know the kibble is okay, but now it’s like the time we had to eat Kibbles ‘n’ Bits for that whole weekend. I can’t go back after having that raw food. You can taste the chicken and pumpkin in it, and what must be apple. That’s how food is supposed to taste. Not dried out and powdered.”

Blue noticed Dover walking over as his thoughts trailed off. He just couldn’t go back to eating the dried shit. There had to be a way to help bring the cost down.

He looked over the bank again and shuddered at the thought of falling.

Dover was going on about his hunger and how they should get back, but Blue was just thinking of ways to save $40 a month. If only he could speak human, and had hands. He would be good at courier work around town. The cottonheads at the home could hire him to get their groceries.

Too bad they had already labelled Blue as untrustworthy after that time they left the main door open and the deli tray out on the coffee table. Nobody told him “NO!”, so how was he supposed to know they weren’t for him?

He even left them allmost of the pickles. What’s the big deal?

Dover was smelling something and whining and that’s when Blue figured out how he was going to save a whole lot more than $40 a month on dog food.

“Hey, Dover. Check this out. I think it’s ham.”

His head spun sideways as his back legs dug in and launched him in Blue’s direction.

Dover loved ham. It was so salty and delicious.

As he got close, Blue motioned to the edge of the bank. Dover was so excited to have ham and then his regular breakfast he didn’t notice Blue’s leg stick out and trip him as he went by. He tried to regain himself but hit a rock and stumbled sideways. Then he skidded over the cliff on his side.

As he looked around, bewildered, he realized there was no ham. He couldn’t smell or see any meat at all. Blue had lied to him. The disappointment was evident on his face as he plummeted to the rocks below.

Blue felt a pang of remorse, but it went away when he thought of the flavour explosion in his mouth that was going to be happening Every. Damn. Day. Sure there would be nobody to share the blame when the garbage got eaten, but he also wasn’t going to have to share the garbage either.

Win/win.

He supposed he should run into some trees at full throttle to bust up his body a bit, but he would wait until he was a little closer. No need to inflict a bunch of pain earlier than necessary.

Oh good, it was starting to rain. That will only add to the effect.

 

Jul 14

The Many Lives And Deaths Of Dovey-Doo – Chapter Three

Okay, I’m awake.

I’m a little fuzzy from the few beers I had before bed, but I can distinctly feel the paws trying to pierce different parts of my body while the whining is piercing my brain.

I guess the dogs want out for a pee.

I open the door and as they bolt out, I crack my eyelids to see the sun peeking over Butler Ridge and licking the treetops above the truck. I check my phone.

Grrrr, it’s 4:30 AM. We mumble some questions, like “Why do they need out this early?” and “Shouldn’t they be exhausted from all the running they did on the beach last night?”

I wait a few minutes and open the door to let them in. They want no part of the offer.

“Should we go out and get them?” Gerri asks hazily.

“No, they probably just want to smell around and see if anything visited in the night. They’ll be ready for a nap by breakfast.”

We drifted back to sleep and woke up around 6:30. They still weren’t back, so we got up to get the coffee ready and realized that we forgot the kettle or any sort of a pot to boil water in.

We improvised. Coffee was fundamental.

You gotta do what you gotta do.

I don’t know about you, but I went through the levels of Scouts Canada. The motto was “Be Prepared.”

I stole this from Wikipedia to explain:

Baden-Powell on “Be Prepared”[edit]

In English, this motto is most commonly Be Prepared. In the third part of Scouting for Boys Robert Baden-Powell explains the meaning of the phrase:

The Scout Motto is: BE PREPARED which means you are always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your DUTY.

  • Be Prepared in Mind by having disciplined yourself to be obedient to every order, and also by having thought out beforehand any accident or situation that might occur, so that you know the right thing to do at the right moment, and are willing to do it.
  • Be Prepared in Body by making yourself strong and active and able to do the right thing at the right moment, and do it.[1]

“To do the right thing at the right moment” can be extreme:

“Where a man has gone so far as to attempt suicide, a Scout should know what to do with him.”[2]
“BE PREPARED to die for your country if need be, so that when the moment arrives you may charge home with confidence, not caring whether you are going to be killed or not”[3]

Okay, so I might have started drinking and smoking weed before they explained the last part, but you have to admit we were pretty prepared with those empty booze cans. Sure we forgot cell charger cords and almost all cooking implements, but look what we did remember.

Our neighbours were kind enough to give us some homemade Irish Cream. They must have been Scouts as well.

Even though we were facing great hurdles, we made do, just like they taught me in Scouts.

Here’s the proof.

Oh good, we can start our day.

At 7 AM, there was still no sign of the boys and it was supposed to start raining in a couple of hours. Blue, I could see not caring about meals, but Dover was only keeping himself alive to eat. He has never missed a meal since we have had him. It’s not that we wouldn’t have forgotten, it’s just that he starts the high-pitched whine about thirty minutes before mealtime and doesn’t quit until he’s fed, so we can’t not feed him.

As we drank our delicious elixir, we walked around and yelled for the boys. We wanted to pack up the dining tent and trailer, but we didn’t want it to start raining if we were still there looking for dogs. So we left it up. This proved to be a good choice.

It’s a pretty sweet setup.

As I walked along, drinking my boozy coffee, a feeling hit me that has probably hit a few of you after a bit of coffee and exercise.

Lucky for me, there were a couple of outhouses just around the corner. I started heading that way with a can of bear spray in my hand. I walked into the shitter and the door, which was on a spring and swings inwards, slammed behind me.

That’s when I heard it.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I looked up and there was a wasp nest on the ceiling, maybe a foot above my head. The slam must have woke them up and they were piling out of the hole. Of course, I had a roll of toilet paper in one hand and a can of bear spray in the other and the door handle was one of those small, D shaped ones that I just couldn’t grasp until I stuffed the spray under my arm. I could feel them on my head and neck, so as soon as I got the door open I was running and screaming towards the truck with my free hand swiping wildly.

Gerri, who had watched me grab the bear spray, thought a bear was chasing me and was preparing to jump in the truck. I managed to escape with only one sting on the back of my leg, but now I felt the call of nature even louder than it’s already urgent cry.

Well, bushes it is.

By around 10:30, in the pouring rain, we unhooked the trailer and started heading for Moberly Lake to get a charger cord and some more food in case we had to stay an extra night. We hoped that the dogs would be waiting there when we got back but figured a pack of smokies and buns wouldn’t hurt, plus we could use another jug of water.

When we got back, Blue was there but Dover wasn’t. Blue was in rough shape, but he’s a pretty tough dog. It’s Dover that isn’t very bright or worldly. He was the one we had to save.

We had to figure out what had happened out there. This is what we came up with.

This is where all future chapters will jump off from. You may have noticed that there are some repeats from Chapter One, but I was trying to get a bit more story in. Remember that these are basically all rough drafts for the final project, so if you see things that don’t make sense or work well, please let me know in a comment or some other way that you would rather get a hold of me.

I’m always open to suggestions.