The Defendant, the insult comic who talks more shit than Richard Pryor on the dumb dust, only without all the funny bits, says he’s facing a grand total of 561 years in the hoosegow.
Which is not nearly enough. But I’m a reasonable fellow. I’d settle for that.
Especially if I believed in reincarnation.
Mad Blog Media 
When the Georgia indictments hit, then we are talking re-incarceration.
Maybe the Deep State can engage Paul Component Engineering to make some golden handcuffs, leg irons, and prison-cell bars for The Defendant. Nothing but the best, don’t you know. And built to last several lifetimes.
I believe that’s 561 years, not days. All the same, still way too short a sentence.
561 years.
Good eyes, guys. I was in a rush to get out the door this morning. The Heat Dome is returning with a vengeance, and the copy desk was drunk again. 516 centuries would be more like it, but let’s not be greedy.
and there I was wearing out several pencils, a tablet of graph paper, lots of brain cells and creating a new groove in my Quija board trying to figure out the 561 “day” trumpian paradox. “Years! Of course, years!”. But at least I think I may have stumbled upon the Unified Field Theory. All of my living room furniture is now floating.
On a rotational note, I lept out for a short ride this afternoon. At one point I had a feisty pitbull jump out at me and collide with my foot and pedal arm. Fortunately I was wearing one of my Mad Dog jerseys so the pitbull wasn’t feeling so well afterward. Poor doggy, careless owner.
Shawn, I think you need my 1990 invention called “Dog Gone.” It was a film cartridge that was mounted onto the rear dropout fender eyelet with a small metal strap. The bottom end of the cartridge was drilled out, with a small rubber grommet holding a firecracker inside. Around the fuse was glued an Estes rocket igniter switched with a 9-volt battery to ignite the fuse, that was mounted to the handlebars. Firing the contraption was almost instantaneous.
Things you can do in a bike shop late at night when you get an idea and have 4 extra hours to kill.
It took me not weeks but days before needing to live-test it on a mean dog chasing me/group on a club ride. The guy behind me told me that the chasing dog froze instantly and his momentum caused him to roll sommersalts in the road shoulder. It was – glorious. Only used it once. Too bad I couldn’t sell them because the lawsuits would also be instantaneous.
Yep. Sharp loud noises work well with animals. In my case, the dog darted out from the vehicle of an individual who resides in that vehicle, crossed about 7 feet of pathway and encountered my rotating crank arm and foot. It’s unlikely that any concussive noise would have made a difference in the time that elapsed. I don’t normally worry too much about dogs in a situation like that anyway. I just aim for them knowing that I’ve ridden over harder, larger boulders, and typically, the spinning foot clobbers them pretty well anyway. In this situation I kind of anticipated the dogs (the owner has two), and so I wasn’t surprised. I didn’t come down on the owner about the situation because he probably already has enough problems with various officers telling him to park somewhere else. I could report the dogs to our local animal control but again, I think the guy has enough troubles.
Dave, were you an Estes model-rocketry buff? I was nuts for the space program. The old man was something of a fiend, too — he’d been stationed at Edwards AFB, got to meet a bunch of test pilots and future astronauts, and collected autographed pix from Chuck Yeager and some of the Mercury-Gemini-Apollo flyboys. The sis and I got to skip school to watch launches on TV.
I got into model rocketry in junior high, about the same time I was dicking around with slot cars. We did our launches in a big empty field that’s now a retail hellhole east of Academy Boulevard in Bibleburg. It was my dream to create an arsenal of guided missiles with cherry bomb or M-80 payloads to punish the dickweeds who refused to tip me for delivering their morning paper. Lucky for them I was better at concepts than execution.
Did you ever build the Orbital Transporter with the glider that would separate at engine cut off and circle around the Transporter as it drifted down on it’s chute? The bad ass rocket we had was the Cherokee D with the D engine. That rocket would disappear from sight on those clear Colorado days.
I had as much fun chasing the rockets across farm fields and attempting to catch them before they landed.
Regarding the Estes igniters, I wasn’t always happy when they’d burn through without igniting the engine. I started carrying regular fuse during launch day when push-button frustration kicked in.
I think I burped about it here before, but in college during a period of classroom burn out, I built a beer can rocket and launched in with a D engine. It was a refreshing site climbing into the land of the sky blue.
No, I was strictly small potatoes in the model-rocketry game. I can’t remember which models I built and flew, but they were nothing like that big boy. I might’ve tried to ride it like a buckin’ bronco.
Also, this was right around the time that I fell in with evil companions and began flying around Bibleburg without need of an Estes assist.
Not really a rocketry buff — just more than a few oddball experiments back in grade school on the grade school lot, which seemed huge at that time. I mostly built the cheap stuff, including gluing fins directly to the engines to lighten the load and speed the flight. I also stuffed some expendable nose-cones directly on the top hole where the parachure report would have come out. Those were the most fun. I also made some of the taller kits, stages and parachutes, but most of those seemed boring to me. The igniters I used for the Doggone were almost 30 years old, and I’b bet I still have some left to this day. In fact, I recently ran across the entire set of the Doggone components. Fun times.
Patrick, your designs with the M-80s are simply diabolical. I wish I knew you back then. We would have got into a ton of trouble.
I love dogs. When larger aggressive dogs chased me, I stopped and put the bike between me and them. My next step was a shot of water in the face. Those two steps worked 95% of the time. The other times, especially a chow that chased me numerous times on my morning commute, got pepper spray. The chow was cured of chasing me after one shot of pepper spray. After that he would stay in his yard even with the gate open.
I’ve been pretty lucky with dogs. Mostly they can tell I’m a soul brother. Got chased pretty good by the Española pit bulls, but I was young and strong then and never got caught.
One time in college I was coasting down this steep hill back to my trailer when this giant German shepherd shot out of a yard and started charging the good ship USS Schwinn, aiming for the port bow. I was doing a ton of cycling and walking (no car, no driver’s license) and favored steel-toed work boots for their durability, so as the dog closed the gap I let him have a Red Wing right in the bark-box.
He did a somersault, landed on his feet, and galloped right back into his yard. I kept the rubber side down and started using another route to and from campus.
Pepper spray doesn’t work on Española pit bulls. They ask for more, with a basket of chips.
Tough pups. Maybe we should give them some “The Bomb” on their chips?