Full Level 3 and packing .45

God, excuse the extremely long wait in between posts. Ive been too busy writing, digging, shooting, and writing.

Highlight: They have found WMD's in Iraq. Good.

In other news, I Have a new knife

It’s a great knife: It’s the small, non-tonto M16, and it’s a beaut. Its razor sharp and tough as nails; every thing I need for a good working/tactical knife. Maybe even for a concealed fighting knife...But if I want a combat knife, ill stick to my SOG Agent! But anyway, story pending. Take your pick, folks...

More Zombie-action Splatter punk
More Cassidy Malone Pulp Fiction
Sci-fi Cyberpunk.

Until later, sighing out.

5 Marines and some assorted personnel killed...

That’s a shame: I hate to see our Soldiers die.

But they estimate over 30 insurgents killed! For 5 marines and some rag head conscripts? That’s very good! If we keep this up, we will discourage some of these insurgents, and maybe make them think twice.

"We must go to Iraq and help our brother Muslims fight against the filthy Infidel Americans and their filthy supporters!"
"I agree that the pox ridden whore-son Americans should die, but do you remember when Mohammed went to Iraq and was killed?
"That only hardens my faith in Allah and my hate for America!"
"But brother, 80 other Soldiers of God died with Mohammed..."
"The Americans are power hungry pigs! They will come to our country, and we will kill them then..."

Sorry, every one, for not posting for so long. Ill have a new post soon on my new airsoft rifle, and more Pulp Fiction as well.

Insane greek arsonist?

Check the link. Must have been a nice house...

Here are some REAL gun bunnies...Under gallery section.

Cassidy ran the cleaning patch through the barell of his nickel plated Colt 1911, threw the patch into the trash can, snapped the slide forwards, turned the saftey on and put in a fresh magazine. It was 1800 hours. (6:00 PM), smack dab in the middle of Happy Hour. Cassidy put the big, shiny pistol into its shoulder holster and walked into the bathroom. He was wearing a black suit, with higly shined black dress shoes, black pants and a black shirt, with a black tie. All of it matched perfectly, except for the robins egg blue sports coat he wore, under which he had the pretty, sandy brown leather holster. Cassidy adjusted his tie, ran a comb through his hair and walked out, the gentle Nevada wind blowing his coat out. Cassidy climbed into the Pinto and started the engine. As usual, it turned over once and then started, its large engine roaring to life like a Russian lawn mower on sterrorids.
Then it was off to the bar.
Cassidy often wished the ATF had an issued uniform; In his experince, chicks REALLY dug uniforms, but that was aside the point. Cassidy's stated objective for that night was to get shit faced, grab a girl and go home. Little did he know, as usual, his plans would go to hell.
Cassidy walked in to the bar and night club, Club Bunny, an upscale club on the Vegas outskirts, were he had a full membership. The music suited him; It tended to be Classic Rock re-done with a Techno overtone, and the waitresses, along with some of the female patrons, wore pink (Cassidy's favorite collor, which he would never admit) Play Boy bunny suits. Every time he went there, Cassidy was reminded of a certan disastirous firefight at a certam Vegas Casino a wile back. It was too bad; The gunbunny he had ‘sparred’ with had been arested, tried for the 13 killings and excacuted three days ago. It was too bad; The 3 minunites he had spent with her before the police had arrested her had been fine; They would have gotten along…
But none the less Cassidy walked in, sat down at a table and ordered an apple martini from an attractive bleached blond in a bunny suit, whos pink fishnets were well worn and whos name tag declared to be “Lisa”.
Cassidy was a good looking man, a little over 6’1’’ in dress shoes, very clean shaven, incredibly hygenic and well dressed, almost no fat in his body, and a perfect, square white smile that nocked him dead. Plus, he was loaded.
Twenty minunites later, he had six other girls at the table. He figured one for a lesbian, riding him for drinks (Not that he minded; He had more money than he knew what to do with, and the little dike was excruitaningly pretty) and figured another one for an ex-cop or soldier, who even though she was a little below standard appeance, she had that sparkle in her eye betraying deep intelegence. There was another one who Cassidy figured to be under 21; Probably 17 or 18. Too young for Cassidy, but he bought her a few drinks anyway.
Another twenty minunites later, Cassidy's night went to hell.
A fight broke out, and before Cassidy realized it was anything more than a drunk mishearing something and taking it as an insult, some hauled out a sawed off shotgun from under his coat and shot the drunk point blank.
Everything paused for a few seconds, and then every one parted form the drunk and his shooter like the outgoing tide. The barkeep went for something under the counter, and the man with the shotgun turned to him.
Cassidy reacted on instinct, pulling his pistol and firing three quick shots, dropping the man to the ground.
Cassidy rushed the man, kicked the shotgun away and called for an ambulance on his cell.
90 seconds later, he was in the back of the bus, riding to the hospital.
The next part Cassidy hated. He was swarmed by Police officers. He showed them his ID, surendered his fire arm (“Which I had damn well better get back with out any scratches, or some property clerk is going to have to put another mortage on his house) and was extensivley questions.
In general, your career was over if you shot some one and you were a cop. But Cassidy wasn’t a cop. He was a Federal Agent, whos boss, even though he praticularly disliked him, kept him out of trouble to the best of his ability. So Cassidy got off scot free.
And, as usual, Cassidy waited around to see what damage he had done. Waiting in the empty, white waiting room, Cassidy slowly and cautiously pulled out a Romance Novel from his jacket pocket and began to read. The urge struck him, and Cassidy walked to the bathroom to release some of the apple martinis he had had that night.
Theres a look. A look that you can instantly tell you when some one wants you. Cassidy thought as he stopped in his tracks and looked at a drop dead georgius nurse walking down the hall way.
And ill be damned to hell if that isnt the look. Cassidy smiled and moved to go past her, his breath softly accented of apple and gin. The nurse reached out for him, and pushed him aginst the wall, grabbing his crotch. Cassidy looked at her for a second, and then kissed her.
The nurse kissed back hard.
“Not here.” She said softly, her lip a quarter inch from his ear, her voice as smoothe as kentucky buorbon. Cassidy smiled.
Ten minunites later, the door to the janatiors closet opned, and Cassidy stumbled out, wiping lipstick off of his ear, neck and mouth with one hand and shrugging on his robins egg blue jacket with the other. Cassidy straitned his tie, tucked the hankerchief back into his pocket and notice his shirt was buttoned out of order. He stopped and fixed it, and noticed something.
Cassidy slid the scanty pink bra off of his shoulder, held it up, inspected it for a moment and walked back to the janitors closet. He nosed the door open with his foot, and tossed the bra in. He paused, taking a good look and winked.
“That’s it? Wham, bam, thank you mam?” her voice said from the closet. Cassidy nodded.
“Yeah, that’s about the just of it…” he said, walking away.
“Oh, Cassidy…” she moaned.
Okay, so the night didn’t turn out all that bad, Cassidy thought, smiling.

Bringing all the obscure news you need!

God, this, makes me love my mom..

God in heaven When are people going to learn about gun safety?

Let the mud slinging begin... I cant believe that that scum bag Kerry is attacking Bush with the bible. I bet Kerry has never even touched the bible with out gloves on...It would burn him.

I take it back. They’re not all that incompetent.

I wonder if one of these would work...

Excuse me for not posting for a while, as I have been laid up and not feeling well, as well as being very busy. Im sure you all know how it goes.

And, I’m starting a new format, with a more frequent news program, containing several articles. Here they are for tonight:


Sure...full dismantling of your nuclear weapons programs...

The U.N is at it again. I cant see how that’s a good idea, but since when was the U.N full of good ideas?

Not a good way to loose weight.

And, finally, I need one of these. An armament around the caliber of 20mm would be good, especially with good D.U bullets and better armor.

This below is my new pet project; Its a story im trying to make into a Southern Gothic Vampire mix.

Heres the first bit;

Adam Blink, or as his friends had called him, back when he had had friends, ‘Blink’, stepped out of the house into the old packed dirt road of the small Georgian town. The town had one of those old French names that Blink found hard to pronounce, despite the semester of French he had taken last year, when he had been a freshman in high school.
It was summer, and in Georgia, that meant heat and humidity. Blink smacked a mosquito off the back of neck.
Bugs, too. He thought. So Blink walked down the side of the venerable red hard packed dirt road. Blink had his old Army rucksack with compact air rifle, a few rounds of ammo and a canteen, along with some other junk he felt would be necessary for the outing into the bayou.
Sam met him a few blocks down the road.
“You ready?” he asked blink. Sam was Blink’s only friend in the small town since had moved down form Oregon a week ago. Sam had played match maker and got Blink a girlfriend that he actually got along with and introduced him to the two dozen or so kids in town, all of which went to the old fashioned school house.
“Im a ready, Sam.” Blink declared, thinking on how remarkable it was that his voice had already caught a southern accent, even though he had been there less than two weeks.
So they walked off into the woods outside of town, entering the bayou, or swamp. Both Sam and Blink were glad for the boots they wore; the water was unpleasant, to say the least. So the two trekked through the swamp, glad for the cover form the hot Georgian sun.
The jungle got deeper and darker as they moved on to what Sam had described as ‘An ‘ol abandoned plantation.’ stuck out in the woods. Supposedly an old lady lived there, the sole resident of the once thriving Southern villa; every one in town discouraged this as just fantasy, but nonetheless discouraged it. Naturally, since parental authority had forbid an insertion onto the Plantations property, all of the kids in town lusted to visit it. But Sam was unique; His father ran the airport, and Sam had actually seen the old Victorian house on a fly over. None of the other kids even knew the area it was in, but Blink had faith in Sam’s unfailing sense of direction, and the old military Russian compass he held in front of him.
And just as suddenly as they had been immersed into the deep swampy jungle, they staggered into a clearing, their feet on solid ground again.
The place was a wreck; Weeds overgrew everything, poking up out of the broken red soil to swarm over fence posts. The drive to the house was on the other side of the clearing, past the old house, which deserved more commentary then the yard.
The house must have been centuries old; Its paint was chipped to pieces, most of its windows cracked, and the shutters were all loose, grass already as tall as the front porch, over which an oning drooped depressingly. The second story was studded with two 5 or six foot tall turrets, with cone shaped sub roofs. The place lived up to the mystery and reputation it incurred. What stood off to the left shocked the two youths.
“Is that what I think it is, blink?” Blink gravely nodded his head.
“Moselium.” Blink spat out. An old, blackened stone structure, with several tombstones grouped around it, the old rod iron gate barring entrance down into the mosiliums underground complex stood open, creaking idly in the wind that stirred the grass and the old rocking chair on the porch. As the wind stirred, the bleached piece of fabric on the pole in the front yard jumped to life, the old stars and bars of the confederate flag waving proudly in the wind, old, tattered to pieces and moth eaten, bleached nearly white but undefeated.
“This place gives me the creeps something major…” Blink declared.
“A ‘yep. That it does. Lets get a on closer.” The more adventurous Sam said, walking through the grass, crouched down. Blink followed him, to an old broken out window peering into the foundation. Sam rubbed the glass with the sleeve of his dad’s old army jacket, trying to rub away what looked like a hundred years of accumulated filth.
“I can’t see nothing.” Sam said, Blink crouched over him eagerly.
Something behind them stirred. What ever it was, it was humming Dixie.
The two boys started and jumped back, knocking into the houses foundation. Before them stood an old woman, wearing a faded white sun dress, her gray hair done up apparently with great effort, her razor sharp features as pale as her dress. Her most disturbing feature was the giant green snake she held in her hands.
“Ahhh! Ah, mam, uh…” Blink stammered, Sam looking as though he was going to pee himself.
“Oh, don’t ya’all worry, huns. Im not here to get ‘ya. Why, glory be if this isn’t the biggest grass snake I have ever seen! And sneaking up on you like that? I recon he was trying to bite one of you, and I couldn’t have that, now, could I?” she said, lifting the snake to slightly above head level and looking the snake in the eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she snapped its neck with an audible ‘snap’ and threw it into the grass.
The two boys looked on in abject horror.

They caught that bad shot out of Ohio.

Read the CNN link above for more info.

Its too bad all of the other insane snipers are not that poor of a shot...24 shootings and only one kill? Thank god.