LOCK DOWN!!

Recently, my Father celebrated a birthday. And what better way to celebrate with him than visiting him at his "play ground". I'm referring to a piece of land he purchased a few years back to use for hunting, as well as logging for firewood. In addition, it's just a cool place to go for a walk in the woods and pop open a few beers. Pabst Blue Ribbon baby!

My Dad has been inviting me over to his target range for a few years now to shoot some guns. I'd never fired anything more than a BB gun as a youngster. And maybe my friend's paintball gun out of his dorm room window in college, when I matriculated at SUNY Potsdam in the mid 90's. I guess its safe to admit that now. The statute of limitations for any damage done to the campus must have passed by now.

Anyhow, we started off shooting a high powered rifle at a target, which was across a field, approximately 60-70 yards away. He went 1st and hit the target in the head four times. I stepped up 2nd and aimed for the abdomen. After centering in on my target, my old man offered one last piece of advice before I pulled the trigger.

"Unless you want a black eye, you might consider moving back from the scope so you don't get hit in the face". The gun had quite a kickback to it.

I was grateful for this last second tip. After getting my bearings back, I ripped off four shots at the target. When we got over to the target, he revealed that 3 of my 4 shots hit the target in the center circle. I must admit that I was quite proud of myself. And if his four shots to the head had merely wounded any would-be attacker, my shots would have finished the perp off. I'm sayin' that would have been one dead son-of-a-bitch people. Nice team work Pop.

We next took a pleasant ride around the grounds. He and his good friend Kevin have bull-dozed quite a few "roads" around the property to make navigation much easier. The hi-lite of the grounds has got to be his tree stand. I'm not even sure you can call it a tree stand. It's more like a fort. He even nick-named it the Taj Mahal. And as far as hunters are concerned, it really is quite impressive. It's got a fully shingled roof with sliding windows on all four walls, where you can shoot at Bambi from. I suggested that he put a generator out there and maybe a satellite dish so they could watch tv while they stalked their prey. I fear that I wasn't too convincing though.

No tv. No dish. Rats!

After we took a trip around the property, we arrived back to the range. My Dad pulled out his 38 special and we popped off a number of rounds. That was much tougher to control. My accuracy was not up to my rifle standards.

"Have you ever considered applying for a pistol permit?" my old man inquired. "You could come out here whenever you wanted to use the range."

I liked the sounds of that, so I asked what I would need to do in order to qualify. He said I'd needed to find four people whom already possessed a permit to vouch for me, as well as get finger printed. That's where I began to have an issue. I've never been finger printed, and wasn't too enthused about surrendering them now.

Allow me to share a tale from my youth at this time.

When I was in 4th grade, my class took a field trip to the Police Station. At the end of the tour one of the officers said that anyone who wanted to get finger printed should line up next to the desk. Perhaps being ahead of my time, and not falling for his trap, I was the only student that refused to get in line.


"Hey kid, the line is over here. Don't you wanna get your prints taken?" he asked.

"I'm not givin' them up that easy!" I replied back with a wry chuckle.

He just gazed at me dumbfounded. He looked back at me and he must have been thinking that I would be visiting him at work again in a few years. Only that time I wouldn't be able to choose whether or not I wanted to get printed.

I mean what a complete set up. Inviting unsuspecting children to see what the inside of a real life jail cell looked like. Then, when our guard was down, offering to give up our finger prints in order to stock pile their data base. Now I'm not foolish enough to assume that none of my classmates from that day never ended up back in the "joint", but come on.

As we headed outside to board the buses, "TJ Hooker" sought out my teacher and said:

"Keep a good eye on this one."

She looked back a bit puzzled. After all, I was a model student. Some might even call me the teacher's pet. I didn't say it, but I wanted to tell him to "watch this", as I was mentally flicking him the bird.

I am however, extremely happy to report that to date, I have not been back in the hoosegow. I've had nothing more than a couple of parking tickets on my record. I would never in my wildest dreams break the law. If only everyone else were as conscientious of a citizen as I am.

Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover!

I'm sure many of you have put your proverbial foot in your mouth at one time or another. It can be quite an embarrassing event. I must admit that one such event occurred at my expense in the recent past.

Last Saturday I awoke from a deep slumber. I had the day off from work so I was in no hurry to rise and shine. What better way to start of the weekend with than a couple of lazy hours of watching the "boob tube". After channel surfing for a few moments I landed on a mini marathon of Law and Order on TNT. I must tell you that I've just recently begun viewing reruns of the show and have become hooked. So a few hours of t.v. seemed like the proper way to ease into my day.

Once I found the motivation to take a shower, I was ready to head out and tackle a short list of errands. I was still a bit fuzzy from an evening of music and beverages at Old City Hall, with a nice collection of friends. I probably stayed out later than I should have but my good friend John McConnell was tearing up the stage. If you have the opportunity, I highly recommend going out to see John next time he's around. It's a groovy mix of original tunes, complimented by a wide range of cover songs from an eclectic group of musical genres. (How was that for a plug Johnny?).

Anyways, like I was saying, I was not entirely playing with a full deck of cards when I left my home. It wasn't just from the night before. It included a 3 day bender that centered around my birthday and a celebration of the Yankees 27th World Series title. So you can imagine that my thoughts were still a bit cloudy. Any of you who were witness to the hi-jinx and shenanigans that played out during my birthday week would understand my mental state even better.

As I was out shopping I happened to bump into an old friend from school. He was accompanied by his lovely wife. I knew who she was, but was never good friends with her in the past. About 6 to 8 minutes of uncomfortable chit-chat ensued. I spent most of that time eyeballing the contents of their shopping cart, searching for another topic, in an effort to extend this awkward chatter. We talked a little bit more about the house I'd recently purchased and what he'd been occupied with at work. She congratulated me on my new dwelling and stated that they too were in the process of purchasing a new home as well.

And then I did it. You might want to hold onto your seats. I may have asked the single most awful question in the HISTORY of questions. I glanced over in the direction of my pal's wife and inquired:

"So how far along are you?"

It seemed like an innocent question, given the circumstances. Like I said, we were merely acquaintances in the past, and in my defense she'd packed a little on, if you know what I mean. When a puzzled look appeared on her mug, I could just feel the blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment.

"How far along with what?" she sheepishly responded.

Thank god my buddy quickly bailed me out and said they were less than a month from closing on their new house. The whole time we were there I assumed they were buying a new house to make room for the baby she obviously was carrying around. I shit you not, I was convinced she was knocked up.

I can never be entirely sure if she bought what her husband said, but it appeared that she truly thought I meant how long until they moved. I owe him big time for saving me from throwing myself right under the bus. As a favor, you may have noticed I have not revealed their names. I know that's not usually my style, but he saved me big time, so that's the least I could do.

So as a word of advice, don't ever judge a book by its cover. And under no circumstances do you ever ask a women if she's pregnant. Let them offer that info 1st.