3 Things I Should Learn How to Do

1. Fire a gun

I fired a rifle once, about 12 years ago. I spent a weekend with the singer for my high school metal band, Dave, his girlfriend, the guitarist, and the alcoholic singer for another metal band called Weapons of Violence, up on some land Dave’s uncle owned, in an old farmhouse with no heat in the winter. Weapons of Violence was an early 80s style metal band. They were all dudes in their late 20s and had a sweet practice space under the pizza shop and you could buy some good weed from the drummer, who was a stand-up dude who did time instead of ratting out his dealer when cops discovered an lb on his porch. They’d buy us beer and we’d get high and watch them practice, with the drummer beating the shit out of one of those rock star 16-piece drumsets with temple blocks and everything, but he was the kind of drummer who used every piece. Bad ass. Then we’d go upstairs and get some pizza.

Anyway, all we did that weekend was drink Beast and explore all kindsa dilapidated out-buildings and smoke Marlboros and play cards and shoot guns and listen to Iron Maiden tapes on a battery operated tape recorder because there was no electricity. They had a clay pigeon launcher, and when it was my turn to shoot it was apparent that I never held a gun before, except a BB gun, and on Nintendo’s Duck Hunt. So Dave had to show me what to do, how to hold the thing right so I wouldn’t hurt myself. I missed the pigeon by about 100 yards.

So I need to learn how to operate one of these things. For two reasons – 1) because I’m moving out to the country soon, and there’s no where to run for help if anyone decides to come up and rob me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid because I’m like a fish out of water out there in the country. But who cares? Guns are cool. 2) We’re starting a small farm, and deer and groundhogs are the enemies to farmers. We had a groundhog eating our squash this year, and so one day the farmer we’re leasing land from went down there with his rifle and ended the little bastard.

So I’ve been reading up on gun safety and here are some rules that I’ve come up with:

1. The gun is always loaded. So are most gun owners.

2. Never point the gun at anything you intend to destroy, unless you’re drunk on whiskey and joking around with your friend, then it’s funny.

3. Never put your finger on the trigger until you're ready to shoot, unless you’re practicing twirling it around like Billy the Kid, which you should only do when the safety is off.

4. Watching and copying Hollywood movies is a good way to develope excellent firearm handling skills. Depending on your style, either hold the gun at waist level like Jack Ruby or cops in old cop shows, shoot from the hip like cowboys, or stretch your arm all the way out and hold the gun sideways like a gangsta. Never aim. If you’re cool enough you’ll hit the intended target.

2. Drive

I know how to drive, kinda, but I never owned a car until yesterday. I never had to, living in either the suburbs or the city or small towns, I always had a living situation which didn’t require more than a bus schedule and my own two feet, and rides from friends. No wonder I’m a drunk.

It’s an old sonofabitch, the Red Dragon, but I got it for free from a friend of mine, who’s a drummer for a band you should buy all kinds of merchandise from, under the condition that I make all the repairs and whatnot. I had new tires and belts and an alternator put on it, and it just passed inspection today (WOO!) after they installed a new headlight and some wipers, and I still have to have the coolant flushed, the transmission serviced, the breaks checked, the power steering belt checked, and I have to fix a leak that’s making a puddle behind the passenger seat. Other than that this car kicks so much ass. Wanna race?

I picked it up Tuesday in Burlington and drove it all the way to Chapel Hill in Tropical Storm Alex. Luckily we made it back in one piece. I was surprised. I’m glad there was a tropical storm because the car was sporting an inspection sticker with a big old "98" on it, and it’s hard even for coppers to see through storms. You see, it’s been sitting in a garage/old log cabin for 5 years. When we pulled it out it didn’t smell too bad but there was some dead snake skin in the glove compartment.

And it has a tape deck. I used to have a mountain of cassette tapes when I was in grade school and high school, most of it dubbed off of someone else’s record collection on those cheap, red or blue, 3-for-a-dollar Maxells. I had a ton of shit dubbed from my brother-in-law’s vinyl on my parents’ stereo. The sound quality was excellent. What a loser.

I have only a small box of those tapes left. The rest are at the bottom of some closet somewhere in Pennsylvania, next to some dried up weed plants. I was going through the ones I still have in my possession, hoping to make this car all-metal-all-the-time, since you always hear rap music playing out of cars (though in a way it’s funny because everyone hates hearing that shit but nobody has the balls to tell them to turn it down, me included), and everyone knows rap is the opposite of metal, and I think a balance in car music is in order. I still have …And Justice for All that I actually bought at the Music Scene, now with the letters worn off, and the actual store-bought Garage Days Re-Revisited EP, but nothing of the real Metallica, from the days of Cliff Burton, all of which I had dubbed. (I will rant about Metallica after I see Some Kind of Monster. I bet you can’t wait).

I also found Blizzard of Oz taped off my bro’s wax, and 2 store-bought Sabbath tapes Black Sabbath and Live at Last, where Toni Iommi tunes down one and a half steps to a C-Sharp so Ozzy can sing in tune. I think Mike Collins left Body Count at my house one day after school, and I still have it. I was disappointed that none of my Slayer tapes resurfaced, particularly Hell Awaits that Ron Keeley gave to me after borrowing it from Brian Whatshisname. And unfortunately I only found the shell to Piece of Mind and Van Halen’s 1984, although that’s not really metal per-se.

So if I can get back home and get some of my tapes and keep my eye out at thrift stores and yard sales, I can amass a stellar metal cassette collection, (or get one of or get one of these things) and someday the Red Dragon may be all-metal-all-the-time, because it looks metal as shit – not in the brand-new-oversized-black-T-shirt-you-just-bought-at-the-mall, piercings-and-eyeliner nu-metal gothy way – but in the dirtbag, seedy-weed, long-hair, faded ripped Maiden shirt-with-the-sleeves-cut-off, zits, Marlboro-smoking, job-at-the-gas-station, Beast-drinking, broke-ass, deliberate-cuts-on-the-forearms, destined to operate a meth lab, ugly-motherfucker, high-top sportin’, pentagram-spray-painting-on-the-wall-behind-the-supermarket METAL way, and that’s the way I hope all my cars are forever, because there are too many things that are smooth and sleek and streamlined. That’s just what I tell myself because I can’t afford a new car, or even a nice used one.

I was cleaning out the interior yesterday with some bogus cleaner stuff I bought at Dollar General and I was reaching under the driver’s seat for garbage when I found this thingy shaped like a flashlight. I turned it around an it had a spray nozzle, and below that it said CHEMICAL MACE – NON-LETHAL WEAPON. So I aimed some at the woods to see if it worked and it shot out about 8 feet. Then I looked on the bottom of the can and it said “Do not use after December 31, 1973”. I wonder what happens to mace after it expires. Does it turn into napalm? All I know is if anyone fucks with me, they are getting some 31 year old mace in the face. Take that, nitz!

All you people with new cars, did your car come with dead snakeskin and MACE? I didn’t think so. I rule. Wanna race? Race with the mace. Face!

3. Write

Can you believe I actually have a degree in English? College is such a scam.

8/4/04