Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll counsels WHEN ANIMALS ATTACK! (With a Groovy Surprise Announcement!). She writes:

So I was surfing the Net, trying to avoid actual news of the world, clicking on things like “Try not to gasp when you see Raquel Welch now…”-type stories, which always disappoint and never deliver the bombshells they promise, like a hooker who only wants to cuddle*. And I came across a story about angry cows attacking sunbathers on Corsica. Let me summarize for you: the cows ALSO like to sunbathe on the beach and take umbrage when humans invade their space. (*I’m pretty sure this felicitous analogy came from Ace of Spades.)

I think that were I to see COWS on the beach, I would worry less about being attacked and more about what I might step in with my bare feet, like in San Francisco. Although at least cows would be less likely to drop infected needles and used prophylactics as well as “pies.”
When we lived in San Francisco in the early ’70s, the snotty residents thought people from the Midwest were unsophisticated hayseeds. They called San Francisco “Baghdad by the Bay.” Who knew that the residents of Baghdad pooped in the streets? How sophisticated!

The upshot of the Corsica cow story was that several people had been attacked and one woman was gored in the face, but she is doing much better now. If you see cows on a beach, best to picnic in the car or pick another beach.

After a few more minutes of “Michelle Obama’s IQ vs. Melania’s is Just Sad” and “Don’t Gasp When You See Cher Without Makeup!” – who WRITES this stuff? – I had to venture outside our lovely summer rental in the mountains with a bag of trash. Trash can only be packed down so densely – even using your feet — before it must eventually leave the house.

About twenty feet from my destination, I see motion in the tall wild grass. Is it another adorable fawn? No, it is a GIANT RAT. Well, it IDENTIFIES as a pig – with the jaunty Hispanic name of javelina — but I have it on good authority that javelinas are not part of the pig family, but are part of the rat family. What a particular humiliation it would be for a Jewish woman who has eschewed bacon for nearly 30 years to be eaten by fake pigs. Back in the house!

I know that javelinas also travel in large packs called “squadrons,” so when you see ONE javelina, you know there are others in the vicinity. And I am afraid of almost ANYTHING in packs. Jews do not have an encouraging historical track record with mobs.

Here’s an indicator of how crowd-averse I am. I used to be a rabid Twins fan before the MLB decided to beatify a career criminal who overdosed on fentanyl while resisting arrest for passing counterfeit money. The 1987 Twins World Championship was a major highlight of my life. But I never even went downtown to the million-person parade. I have a tremendous fear – much worse than my fear of javelinas – of being trampled in a mob, due to the fact that I am now approximately 3’8” tall. At least it seems like it when I am trying to reach things in the supermarket. Once you slip under five feet, it’s really all the same.

Here in Prescott, we have cute chipmunks, squirrels, and many deer, both mule deer and white-tailed, that graze right in our front yard. We have the aforementioned javelinas, geckos, a beautiful bobcat, and skunks who are in league with woodpeckers to prevent me from having a window open at night. Oh, the sounds and smells of The Great Outdoors.

As dangerous as Nature can be, nothing is more frightening to me – especially in packs – than human beings. For one thing, you can’t just shoot them without unpleasant repercussions, unless you live in Chicago or are an Officer in the Capitol Police. I figure it would take me about two magazines in my 15-shot Sig to terminate with extreme prejudice a squadron of javelinas. However, firing 30 rounds in a residential area might be frowned upon even in gun-friendly Arizona. Even if you invited all the neighbors for a Rat Roast Luau.

But if you so much as BRANDISH a weapon on your own property at a hostile, snarling mob of BLMers (a few black real estate moguls plus a bunch of fat white women) or Antifa (same fat white women plus violent white soy boys), you are in BIG TROUBLE, Buster.

Even Twitter mobs are pretty relentless and frightening, which is one of many reasons why I am not on Twitter or even Facebook. Years ago, our slightly sarcastic son suggested, “You should get on Twitter, Mom. You could eat a nice Chicken Wrap and Tweet about it.” I considered it, but Max, who rarely tries to tell me what to do, said, “That is a bad idea, hon – you have a history of shooting from the hip and regretting it later; Twitter is not for you. Not to be critical, but you have zero ability to grovel!”

How right Max was! Now, you can lose a job for a “racist” rock your ancestors had on their property 150 years ago, OR a jokey PRIVATE email 20 years ago suggesting that a man in a dress is not a woman. Things can go south fast if you are not in a Permanent Get Out Of Twitter Jail Free class of people that begins with being a Democrat and proceeds quickly to skin color. And only if you are slandering a group of Approved Targets like Trump voters, Christians, white folks, and other Domestic Terrorists.

Speaking of Max and relentless attacks by corporate and governmental woke-heads, his sixth Wilder Bunch novel Social Credit: A Comedy of Globalist Proportions is in print, proofread and for sale on either Amazon (e-book and paperback) here or out of our virtual trunk (VWAM – paperback only and with a 20% discount!) here.

Stipulating that I am Max’s wife and possibly not free of bias, I can promise that it is wise, witty, and warm with just enough wackiness thrown in. Where else but in the barely mythical college town of Ojibwa City, Minnesota can you find a multilingual homeless Chinese chess genius who tutors in Hebrew and Chess? Who teams up with an off-the-grid man mountain, a severely pregnant blues singer, and a cast of allies determined to squelch a Chinese Communist plan to monitor the town’s citizens’ every word, movement and thought.

One of the lessons of this very entertaining book is that in the fight against Goliath — Big Tech, greedy government, corporate fools, media morons, and academic asshats — a whole lot of ordinary Davids (and one Husky dog) can win enough skirmishes to fight another day. But like in poker, you “gotta be in to win.” Passive resistance is a start. But sooner or later, we have to take the fight to the liberty-haters. “Social Credit” points the way, and does so with a lot of laughs and nary a superhero in the bunch. Just ordinary people whose superpowers are mockery and grit. Holiday gift-giving is just around the corner! Treat yourself first.

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