tvashtarkatena

Get between a weka and his empty tuna can and find out who's boss.

You can grow a beard?

Quack.

I'm getting a hankering to shit in your butter dish. Stand in line. We've got two dogs and two cats.

I don't like the smell of olives anymore.

Ducky.

Just keep your relations out of my compost pile. That's where I become the aggressor.

OKee duckee. Why don't you just go Dynafit like the rest of the planet?

I wouldn't clean a urinal with Jack Daniels.

...and acting like you're a 'player'. Geh.

Shouldn't, perhaps, but legally, it does very much.

Jesus, I'm almost killed by a porcupine and all you guys can talk about is protecting your vehicles! If they can chew throught the better part of a tractor trailer tire, imagine what they can do to the soft parts of your face!

I would only add that the number of shots matters quite a bit. One shot could have been explained away as an 'I didn't mean to actually pull the trigger'; manslaughter. After that, well, you're plinking using a human target. Taking it further, had the shooter emptied the clip into the victim, we probably wouldn't bother to have this discussion.

z'long as therez 'nuff sun ta light the Volcano, miaahhhnnn, you kin jis stay where U R, dewwwwwd.

Wow. Poker. Golf. Jags. Everything but...chics. Geh. Geh. Geh.

Two years ago I went for a trail run through the Fifth of July Peak area above the Chiwawa River. As I traversed the trail just below Carne Mountain, I was confronted by an enormous bull porcupine; peerless, fearless, and leashless. He crawled down from his tree and began advancing at a menacing pace of a third of a mile per hour or so, maintaining full eye contact, all the while snorting aggressively like an deflating bagpipe. As anyone who's been charged by a 40 pound rodent can tell you, I was terrified as I stumbled backwards to escape the onslaught. Had been carrying the trusty Desert Eagle I'd been thinking about impulse buying, I could have blown his quills over half of Entiat County. Instead, I had only my instincts for protection. Finally, it dawned on me; I began to walk away from him. I still wake up nights thinking about what might have happened had I tripped, hit my head on a rock, and been rendered unconscious during that desperate moment.

Like, where'z the flip out Volcano, miaahnnn?

Cigars indicate an unaddressed oral fixation for dark, thick, long tube-shaped objects coupled with a burning sensation. Geh. Geh. Geh.

siouluir powur, diooooood.

g

Perheps zee Chumints cout resume zeir govuhnance uff de Nederlands unt klean up zee problem.

ge

So geh. And so 90s.

But that wasn't the situation, was it? That's a very different situation, which might have resulted in a different verdict. Being 'prone to flying into blind rages' (CBS's words and conjecture) does not make one violent or dangerous. Being violent or dangerous makes one violent or dangerous. I can scream at a wall all day long; I'm not sure that warrants being shot, although my wife might disagree. Finally, if you're prone to freaking out, don't carry a gun. If you do carry a gun, freak out, and use it wrongly, then you're responsible to pay for your mistake. If that seems unfair, well, tough toenails. You made the bad call to carry the gun in the first place.

Well be prepared to be someones bith in Jail. Better hope Kevbones not there. Thutup, bith.