So, I was driving over to the rifle range to sight in my Winchester Model 70 chambered in .458 Winchester Magnum when I passed by a head shop. On a whim I decided to whip in and see if they carried any Che Guevara posters since I was in need of a target. I walked through the door and the clerk and his single customer straightened up and I heard one of them whisper something about narc and to keep cool but I put them at ease by saying that I was there only to look at the posters. I quickly found a suitable Che poster and walked towards the register. I waited patiently while the other customer agonized over which brand of synthetic mary jane to buy until the clerk offered to check me out while the other guy made up his mind. When he saw my Che poster he complimented me on my taste, but added that I didn't strike him as the Che type, that I looked to him more like a racist rethug golfer that he had been reading about on democrat underground dot com. I leveled with him that I was no fan of Che and was buying the poster only for use as a rifle target. The clerk told me that I had it all wrong and then told me that he believes what Carlos Santana said, "Che may be dead for you, but he lives in our hearts ... Che is all about love and compassion." I told him that I would keep that in mind while I turned Che's face into a tattered mess. The clerk said, "Whatever trips your trigger, Herbert" which caused the other customer to start giggling and to chime in with, "Yeah, Herbert." I was tempted to punch the giggler in the face until I saw his yellow teeth. Punching a yellow toothed hippie in the mouth can give you a nasty infection in your hand--a lesson I learned the hard way years ago. I decided to just pay for the poster and clear the hell out. As I reached into my wallet and drew out a twenty dollar bill something occurred to me. I told the clerk that the man on the twenty was Democratic President Andrew Jackson and I added that Jackson owned 150 times as many slaves as all of the Republican presidents put together. Then I asked, "So, DUmmy, which party is the party of racists?" I had rehearsed this line, thinking that it was the perfect retort and would immediately shut up any DUmmy. I stared at the clerk, waiting for him to start stammering and stuttering and turn red in the face when he blurted out, "When is Mittens going to release his tax returns, wingnut?" I turned to yellow teeth and asked him if he had anything to add. He said, "Ronnie Raygun says that ketchup is a vegetable." I paid up and left.
