The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: franksolich on October 01, 2011, 09:39:50 AM
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franksolich meets three primitives. All summer long, there’d been an incessant argument between the neighbor and the property caretaker on one side, and franksolich on the other side. I live in a remote distant part of the county, the closest neighbor six miles to the north, and town six miles to the east.
It’s a great place to live.
Myself being deaf, others have expressed concerns about personal safety, especially given that primitives don’t like franksolich, and the propensity to wreak violence among the left. The neighbor and the caretaker insist people come around, but I don’t hear (and see) them. I insist nobody comes around—the place is rather remote, after all—that I’m not aware of.
Well, last Monday night was an exception. But I still insist it’s got to be a rare exception.
I had gone to bed Monday evening, but during the middle of the night, I had to get up to empty the bladder.
franksolich, uh, sleeps sans clothing.
I walked from the bedroom into the kitchen and then into the bathroom, where I did the standing-up business. But when I walked out of the bathroom back into the kitchen, I noticed light was coming through underneath the door from the kitchen to the garage.
This puzzled me, because I hadn’t left the light on, and anybody who might have business in the garage wouldn’t be around.
The dining room is next to the kitchen, and on the dining room table was a 1-3/8†S/K adjustable wrench, which the neighbor had kindly left me earlier that day, to bolster my arsenal of defensive weaponry.
Grabbing it, I pulled open the door from the kitchen to the garage, the giant wrench in my hand and myself of course naked as a jaybird.
There were three guys, probably in their 30s, sitting on milk crates in the garage. The garage is mostly empty, clean, and very spacious (for at least three motor vehicles). One of them, “texting†on a cellular telephone, looked up at me, startled and staring. The other two didn’t notice me right away.
Meth heads.
At 6’3†I was taller than any of them, but at 174 pounds, well, the littlest one outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. This was going to take some diplomacy rather than knocking-of-heads.
“Okay guys,†I announced; “party’s over, time to go home now.â€
At which the other two guys looked up, startled and staring.
I had the wrench in my hand, but had the uncomfortable feeling they weren’t looking at the wrench, but didn’t especially care, damn it.
The garage doors were opened, as it wasn’t unseasonably cold outside.
After staring for several seconds, the three got up and ran away, down towards the river.
As I said to the property caretaker and the neighbor Tuesday morning, I wished I knew if it was what I said, or the weapon in my hand, that scared them off like that, so I can do the same if it ever happens again.
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Did your buddy ever arrange to have you try out that gun he was going to show you?
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Did your buddy ever arrange to have you try out that gun he was going to show you?
That was a long time ago now.
It was a revolver or pistol.
I tried it, and decided I'm not an aiming-and-shooting person, but rather a hitting-with-a-metal-object sort of person, when it comes to self-defense.
He agreed, even though he'd put a lot of time into it and was hoping it'd work out, but I suspect he decided it wouldn't work out before I did.
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That was a long time ago now.
It was a revolver or pistol.
I tried it, and decided I'm not an aiming-and-shooting person, but rather a hitting-with-a-metal-object sort of person, when it comes to self-defense.
He agreed, even though he'd put a lot of time into it and was hoping it'd work out, but I suspect he decided it wouldn't work out before I did.
They make a .410 Shotgun pistol that is just right for you, Frank. BTW, the bullets are made of metal.
http://www.gunblast.com/Taurus-Judge.htm
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After staring for several seconds, the three got up and ran away, down towards the river.
As I said to the property caretaker and the neighbor Tuesday morning, I wished I knew if it was what I said, or the weapon in my hand, that scared them off like that, so I can do the same if it ever happens again.
When the naked guy shows up, you know it's time to pack up and head home. :-)
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When the naked guy shows up, you know it's time to pack up and head home. :-)
Well, I'm going to persist in the delusion it was my having a 1-3/8" S/K adjustable wrench in my hand.
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Did they just make their way out there on foot, no car or other transportation? What clued you in that they might be meth heads, versus just regular drifters?
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Did they just make their way out there on foot, no car or other transportation? What clued you in that they might be meth heads, versus just regular drifters?
I dunno. The three of us (neighbor, caretaker, and myself) speculate they'd parked down by the river, and seeing the house, and supposing it uninhabited, went to it.
That's happened before.
This place isn't visible from the highway, but it is from the river.
As for being meth heads, the first guy, the one who looked up first, had really crummy teeth, and the other two seemed spaced out.
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I dunno. The three of us (neighbor, caretaker, and myself) speculate they'd parked down by the river, and seeing the house, and supposing it uninhabited, went to it.
That's happened before.
This place isn't visible from the highway, but it is from the river.
As for being meth heads, the first guy, the one who looked up first, had really crummy teeth, and the other two seemed spaced out.
You should have taken just a second to ask them their DU names.
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They make a .410 Shotgun pistol that is just right for you, Frank. BTW, the bullets are made of metal.
http://www.gunblast.com/Taurus-Judge.htm
Coach, I'm with Dutch on this one. It's a really short shotgun. At that range, those meth heads would have been toast. Besides, you had one wrench in your hands, and there were three of them. Even DUmmy math . . . well, it might be able to comprehend that.
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Frank, get a firearm. These SOBs would kill their own momma if they thought they could score a big fix.
Get something like one of these since it is just you out there.
http://www.winchesterguns.com/products/catalog/historic-detail.asp?family=012C&offset=12&mid=512908
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When the naked guy shows up, holding his wrench in his hand, you know it's time to pack up and head home. :-)
Fixed
:rofl:
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Coach, I'm with Dutch on this one. It's a really short shotgun. At that range, those meth heads would have been toast. Besides, you had one wrench in your hands, and there were three of them. Even DUmmy math . . . well, it might be able to comprehend that.
I would love one of them, problem is the cost. Wonder if one can use bird shot instead of using lethal force.[22]
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I would love one of them, problem is the cost. Wonder if one can use bird shot instead of using lethal force.[22]
Vesta . . . :thatsright:
At short range, birdshot is "lethal force." ::) Plus, both Winchester and Federal make personal defense loads specifically for a .410/.45 Colt handgun. Screw the "non-lethal" stuff. Do you know if the intruders are just going to "hurt" you? No. Therefore, said intruders should have the same Fear of God in them for coming into your dwelling.
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They make a .410 Shotgun pistol that is just right for you, Frank. BTW, the bullets are made of metal.
http://www.gunblast.com/Taurus-Judge.htm
Whenever I want to change the loads, I range the thing on a man sized target at twenty feet so as to have a feel for the pattern. I keep my Judge loaded in this order:
4 rounds (empty under the firing pin)
Load one 3" #4 shot
Load two 3" 00 Buck
Load three 3" 00 Buck
Load four Long Cart .45 (for coup de grace)
First shot to slow intruder down, second and third shots to put intruder down and in case I have to shoot through drywall, coup de grace because my lawyer isn't a criminal defense guy.
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•I live in a remote distant part of the county, the closest neighbor six miles to the north, and town six miles to the east.
•franksolich, uh, sleeps sans clothing. I pulled open the door from the kitchen to the garage, the giant wrench in my hand and myself of course naked as a jaybird.
•There were three guys, probably in their 30s, sitting on milk crates in the garage. The garage is mostly empty, clean, and very spacious (for at least three motor vehicles). One of them, “texting†on a cellular telephone, looked up at me, startled and staring. The other two didn’t notice me right away.
•At 6’3†I was taller than any of them, but at 174 pounds, well, the littlest one outweighed me by at least fifty pounds. This was going to take some diplomacy rather than knocking-of-heads.
•After staring for several seconds, the three got up and ran away, down towards the river.
•As I said to the property caretaker and the neighbor Tuesday morning, I wished I knew if it was what I said, or the weapon in my hand, that scared them off like that, so I can do the same if it ever happens again.
ok i think i have this figured out.
let me break it down for ya...
you live in remote area. down by the river.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/a4dd8bbe.jpg)
three guys heavier than you were in your garage
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/b83acf2a-1.jpg)
you approached them naked with a wrench (are you ****ing serious franksolich?)
your "Guard Cat" let out a squeal that sounded like a pig in heat. due to a disability you didnt hear it.
for some reason this got their attention...
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/2706bbd5.jpg)
then they retreated back down to the river to get the hell outta there.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/2c4f2b0e.jpg)
if your cats knew sign language they would have been able to tell you, the guys were last heard saying...
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/342e30cc.jpg)
so there ya go! :shucks:
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:rofl:
OMG!
:panic:
Hi5!!!!
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I heard a noise last night downstairs in the kitchen, so I wandered downstairs sans pajamas to investigate.
When I returned, my wife asked me why I didn't put on my robe first before going to check on the noise.
I told her that I learned on Conservative Cave that the sight of a naked man's tool would frighten away most intruders.
(She's not buying it)
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ok i think i have this figured out.
let me break it down for ya...
you live in remote area. down by the river.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/a4dd8bbe.jpg)
three guys heavier than you were in your garage
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/b83acf2a-1.jpg)
you approached them naked with a wrench (are you ****ing serious franksolich?)
your "Guard Cat" let out a squeal that sounded like a pig in heat. due to a disability you didnt hear it.
for some reason this got their attention...
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/2706bbd5.jpg)
then they retreated back down to the river to get the hell outta there.
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/2c4f2b0e.jpg)
if your cats knew sign language they would have been able to tell you, the guys were last heard saying...
(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v230/sadiesinner/forums/342e30cc.jpg)
so there ya go! :shucks:
One good thing about the Cave is that there is some funny stuff on here. That was one of the funniest. Thanks.
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Well, I'm going to persist in the delusion it was my having a 1-3/8" S/K adjustable wrench in my hand.
Persist in your delusion all you like but they were terrified you were going to invite them inside!
:lmao:
KC
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Somehow I'm reminded of the "Zed's Dead" scene from Pulp Fiction.
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I told her that I learned on Conservative Cave that the sight of a naked man's tool would frighten away most intruders.
(She's not buying it)
Well, I wouldn't buy it either.
At night, the house can look uninhabited, and the grounds look like a just a place with three or four pieces of agricultural equipment parked there.
And then suddenly boom! a person appears out of nowhere.
And all three are blotzed out of their minds to begin with.
I think the nearly-unanimous reaction would be to.....run away.
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Somehow I'm reminded of the "Zed's Dead" scene from Pulp Fiction.
Oh my. This thread seems to have attracted the notice of lurking primitives, arousing their salacious interests, one imagines hippywife, warpy, horse, nadin, and Pedro Picasso have actually been taking notes for their own nefarious purposes, about the private habits of franksolich.
Too bad for the primitives, though; one may look, but not touch.
I have to say however that when a guest sleeping in other people’s homes, franksolich is the model of decorum and modesty, of utmost propriety and rectitude, causing no distress or shock or embarrassment to the hosts; I sleep without clothes only at home, nowhere else.
Surely it must be a shock to the prudish primitives, who of course have no idea what goes on in fundieland.
And I also have to add that never once in my adult life have I ever surprised, embarrassed, or shocked a member of the opposite sex, an ancient personage, or a child. Not once.
Which is remarkable, considering that while I live out in the middle of nowhere, miles from other people, really, I have no privacy, no seclusion , at all. Anyone could invade my territory at will, and I’d be the last person to know of it…..and too late.
The deaf are notorious for being unaware of much that surrounds us, and because this sort of thing inevitably leads to trouble, usually the tendency is to get paranoid about everything and everybody; the shades on the windows, the triple locks on the doors, the alarms and bright flashing lights, the always-looking-over-one’s-shoulder, in dire fear of any potential peril.
Well, I can’t live that way; I refuse to be paranoid.
(And you being a cop, Tantal, sir, you might disagree.)
But one is faced with two choices, black and white; to be afraid of everything, or to be afraid of nothing. Lacking the means of discernment (hearing; the ability to use audio clues to judge if something is dangerous or harmless), there is no “middle ground.†One has to be scared of all that is, or of nothing that is.
I cannot hear a telephone ring, or a conversation on a telephone. I cannot hear a doorbell ring, I cannot hear someone knocking on the door, or rapping on a window. If some sort of barrier separates me from a person trying to get a hold of me, well, even if that person is just a few feet away from me, that person isn’t going to reach me.
And so the always-open-door policy.
This place, as with every place I’ve lived in my adult life, including in the cities of Lincoln, Omaha, Allentown, and Fairlawn (New Jersey), has always been unlocked, both the front door and the back door. Anyone, no matter their business, has always been free to simply walk inside.
The only guaranteed privacy I’ve had in my life are those fifteen or twenty minutes, cumulative, that one might spend in the bathroom every day, behind a locked door. That’s it.
Such a life demands an almost military-like discipline where, because one never knows who might come in, and when, from about 6 a.m. until 10 p.m., one must be sharp, clean, trim, shaved, cologned, suitably attired, even the shoelaces tied; constantly presentable.
This is not a life where one can be sloppy or casual.
During the middle of the night, however, the probability of intrusion drops to near zero; at least intrusion by people one cares about.
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Persist in your delusion all you like but they were terrified you were going to invite them inside!
Yeah, right.
I may be getting a wrong impression, but I'm getting the impression (not from you, though, sir) that some think I'm trying to allege something I've never alleged.
I've never once insinuated there's anything remarkable about me, in the physical sense, other than the absence of ears, and the copious head of hair used to disguise that absence. In all other attributes, I'm "average," nothing special.
I suppose my height can intimidate, but by Nebraska standards, I barely meet the criteria for "tall."
The lack of flab and tight, taunt skin might suggest "muscles," but really, it's not.
In fact, I was disheartened last month when Pedro Picasso of Skins's island revealed certain vital statistics of his; he's about three inches shorter than I am, but he outweighs me something considerable. In a brawling match, franksolich could be pummeled into a red spot in the ground by the sissy-boy of Skins's island, which is hardly an encouraging thought.
However, it's nice to know that my physique gives the illusion, the delusion, of "muscle."
There is one other thing, copious, and sometimes nasty-looking, scars decorating this body, suggestive of some really vigorous knife-fights (or at least that's what I've been told others think they are) in which I got cut up pretty good.
In truth, those have been from accidents--I've never been slashed by a knife in my life--but it's nice to know the scars give the illusion, the delusion, of "survivor of knife-fights."
I think Karin nailed it in the other thread the salacious primitives are lurking at; that my appearance, in totality, and no particular part of it, scared them off.