Well, as the resident hack writer without what you folks would call a "paying gig" or even "enough money to make rent this month," I got to thinkin'. Seein' as how thinkin' is the only thing I'm good at, seein' as how doin' actually requires that cold, hard currency stuff that the kids these days are going on about, I'm typically relegated to just thinkin'.
So, I was thinkin'. I'd love to go to the SHOT Show this year and write a long-winded and inane article about the show, but moreso about Glock's big giant announcement about which all of us with trigger fingers and operating penises have been going crazy over the last demiannum.
Alas, a problem arises. As per the first paragraph in this post, I find myself completely bereft of funds. Ain't it the way with us shootie-writie-types? If I'm not constantly sauced, I'm reminded of the horrible bleakness of reality and besides, shooting is like sex. It's no fun if you're sober. Or doing it with someone you know and in a place with which you're familiar.
Being broke has put a damper on both of these beloved activities. I'm down to less than 100 .223s and I think about sixteen "of those pussy-ass nine millimeters." You know life is horrible when you have more boxes of that expensive Hornady TAP self-defense ammunition than Wolf ball used for simple blasting. That also being said, I'm reduced to drinking (horror of horrors)
domestic malt liquor instead of fine imported lagers, refined for my distinguished and alert palate. It's amazing how a dollar's worth of Steel Reserve - High Gravity can stave off the tremens for another day. Yeah, nothing like popping into a tall boy of the heavy, heavy fuel to keep you running cool for another twelve. As long as I stay out of bat country, I'll be doin' fine.
But I digress! Who wants to help me go to SHOT this year? I have a friend who works 'In the biz' (he works part-time {technically} at the Carson Armory) and I'm allegedly a writer and therefore work for 'the press.' I do have a web page or six, any of which can be used as a convincing cover to meet the whole 'Industry Or Press' requirement for admission. After all, I once used a Geocities page that made fun of Final Fantasy 7 as my prerequisite for admission to the E3 convention some years back.
So what do you say, guys? I have two weeks to amass about 150 bucks so I can travel to Las Vegas (
more like, LOST WAGES, am I right?), buy a memory card for my crappy Vivitar digital camera (I've no idea to where the old one that had all the photographs I've taken in my entire life including memories of loves lost disappeared) and perhaps enjoy a tasty meal at that McDonald's in Tonapah. Oh you know the one, the one that can justify twelve dollars for a Big Mac value meal because it's the only game for two hundred miles in any direction? God, it's like being in Pasadena again. I have no intention on acquiring room and board, as every time I go to that Godforsaken city, I can never even
find a room for rent, and in the rare occasion I do, I can't even get it, as I'm in possession of a Nevada drivers' license, so therefore I'm a local despite the fact I just drove nine hours to get there! Apparently as far as the hotel clerks are concerned, the 89410 zip code is just right down the street from the Fremont Street Experience and so therefore I'm a
local and ha ha no room for you chumpsickle!
Yes, this has happened to me no less than three times. Once after fourteen straight hours on the road from Tucamcari, NM (right on the Texas border). I'm not beneath sleeping in my car in the parking garage at the Circus Circus then taking a shower at a truck stop. I've done it before and by God, it built character, and as the father and teacher of the great XXth century philosopher Calvin was so fond of pointificating: "A day in which character is not built is a day one can consider wasted!" This of course is a paraphrase.
I have more tangents than a room full of right triangles.
I hate begging for money or assistance or anything, but come on folks. You can send me funds via Paypal (more like
Gaypal am I right?! Is this thing on?) to:
[email protected].
Or if one were so inclined, one could send currency of the cold, hard variety to:
S. Van Pelt
1290-A Zinfandel Ln.
Gardnerville NV
89460
And in case you're all wondering: My life is still awful and I don't yet know whether I'm going to part with my assets so I can leave the state for awhile and try to carve out a bit of that Grand American Dream which I guess is a pie of some variety.
At least going to SHOT would be a better expenditure of a weekend than sitting in my hermit-hole and watching reruns of Neon Genesis Evangelion? Right?