Zumbo done up in RedNeck:
Jim Zumbo:
Assault Rifles fer Hunters?
As I write this, I'm huntin coyotes in southeastern Wyomin wif Eddie Stevenson, PR Manager fer Remintan Arms, Greg Dennison, who is senior research engineer fer Remintan, `n` several writers. We're testin Remintan's brand new .17 cal Spitfar bullet on coyotes.
I must be livin in a vacuum. da guides on our hunt tell me dat da use of AR `n` AK rifles have a rapidly growing following among hunters, especially prareie dog hunters. I had no clue. Only once in my life have I ever seen anyone usin one of dese fararms.
I call em "assault" rifles, which may upset some people. Excuse me, maybe I'm a traditionalist, but I see no place fer dese weapons among our huntin fraternity. I'll go so far as ta call em "terrorist" rifles. They tell me dat some cumpanies aur producing assault rifles dat aur "tackdrivers."
Sorry, folks, in my humble opinion, dese thangs have no place in huntin. We don't need ta be lumped inta da group of people who terrorize da world wif em, which is an obvious concern. I've always been comfortable wif da statement dat hunters don't use assault rifles. We've always been proud of our "sportin fararms."
This really has me concerned. As hunters, we don't need da image of walkin `rounst da woods carrying one of dese weapons. Ta most of da public, an assault rifle is a terrifying thang. Let's divorce ourselves from em. I say game departments should ban em from da prareies `n` woods. |
That made me think... this story would be perfect in RedNeck...
The Ryan's Steakhouse Incident
(If yew haven't rid dis -- yew're really missing out!!!)
(and just in case yew were wonderin - no, dis ain`t about me)
A couple of weeks ago we decided ta cruise out ta Ryan's Steakhouse fer dinner. It was a Wednesday night, which means dat macaroni `n` beef, was on da hot bar, indeed da only night of da week dat it is served. Uncle Johnny would love it.
Wednesday night is also kid's night at Ryan's, cumplete wif Dizzy da Clown wanderin from table ta table entertainin da li`l bastards. It may seem dat da events about ta be told have li`l connection ta those two circumstances, but all will be clyear in a moment.
We went through da line `n` placed our orders fer da all-yew-can-eat hot bar then sat down as far away from da front of da restaurant as possible in order ta keep da density of kids down a bit. Then I started my move ta da hot bar. Plate after plate of macaroni `n` beef was consumed dat evenin, I tell yew - in all, four heaping plates of da pseudo-Italian ambrosia was shoved inta my belly. I was sated. Perhaps a bit too much, however I had not really been feeling well all day, whut
wif a bit of gas `n` such. By da time I had eaten four overwhelmed plates of food, I was in real trouble. yonder was so much presshore on my diaphragm dat I was havin trouble breathang. At da same time, da downward presshore was building. At farst, I thought it was only gas which could have been passed in batches right at da table wifout too much concern. Unfortunately, dat was not ta be.
After a minute er so it was clyear dat I was dealing wif explosive diarrhea. It's amazing how grease can make its way through yore Intestines far licketdspliter than da food which spawned da grease ta begin wif, but I digress...
I got up from da table `n` made my way ta da bathroom. Upon enterin, I saw two sinks immediately inside da door, two urinals just ta da right of da sinks, `n` two tallet stalls against da back wall. One of`em was a handicapped bathroom. Now, normally I would have gone ta da handicapped stall since I lik ta stretch out a bit when I tekk a good shit, but in dis case, da door lock was broken `n` da only thang I hate worse than my date telling me ta stop cuttin my toenails wif a
pare of diagonal wire cutters is havin someone walk in on me while I am takin a shit. I went ta da normal stall.
In retrospect, I probably should have gone ta da large, handicapped stall even though da door would not lock because dat bit of time lost in makin da stall switch proved ta be a bit too long under da circumstances. By da time I had walked inta da regular stall, da presshore on my ass was reaching Biblical proportions.
I began "The Move."
I know yew (and definitely Uncle Johnny) understan` dis (though wimmen would not), but I'll tekk a moment ta explain "The Move" anyway. fellas know exactly whut their bowels aur up ta at any given second. `n` when da time cumes ta empty da cache, a sequence of physiological events occur dat kaint be stopped under any circumstances. yonder is a move fellas make dat involves simultaneously approaching da tallet, beginnin da body turn ta position ones ass toward said tallet, hookin ones fingers inta ones waistline, `n` pulling down da pants while beginnin da squat at da same time.
It is a very fluid motion dat, when performed properly, results in da flawless expulsion of shit at da exact same second dat ones ass is properly placed on da tallet seat. Done properly, it even asshores dat da dick is properly inserted inta da front rim of da tallet in da event dat da piss stream lets loose at da same time; it is truly a picture of coordination rivaling dat of a skilled ballet dancer.
I was about half-way inta "The Move" when I luked down at da floor `n` saw a pile of vomit dat had been previously expelled by one of those li`l bastards attending kids night; it was mounded up in da corner so I did not notice it when I had farst walked inta da stall. Normally, I would not have been boyonderd by such a thang, but I had eaten so much `n` da presshore upward was so intense, dat I hit a ryearly experienced gag reflex. `n` once dat reflex started, combined wif da intense presshore upward causet by da bloated stomach, four plates of macaroni `n` beef started comin up fer a rematch. whut happened next was so quick dat da exact sequence of events aur a bit fuzzy, but I will try ta reconstruct em as best I can. In dat moment of impending projectile vomitin, my attention was diverted from da goings-on at da other end. Ta put a freeze frame on da situation, I was half crouched down ta da tallet, pants pulled down ta my knees, wif a load of vomit comin up my esophagus. Now, most of yew know dat vomitin tekks precedence over shit no madder whut is about ta cume slammin out of yore ass. It is apprrrntly an evolutionary thang since shittin will not kill yew, but vomitin tekks a presence of mind ta accumplish so dat yew do not aspirate any food inta da bronchial tubes `n` perhaps choke ta death. My attention was thus diverted. At dat very split second, my ass exploded in whut can only be described as a wake...yew know, as in a newspaper headline along da lines of "30,000 Killed In Wake of Typhoon Fifi" er somethang similar. In whut seemed ta be most suitably meashored in cubic feet, an enormous plug of shit da consistency of thick mud wif embedded pockets of greasy liquid came flying out of my ass. But remember, I was only half-way down on da tallet at dat moment. da shit wave was of such force `n` of just such an angle in relation ta da back curve of da tallet seat dat it ricocheted off da back of da seat `n` slammed inta da wall at an angle of incidence equal ta da angle at which it initially hit da tallet seat. Then I sat down.
Recall dat when dat event occurred, I was already half-way ta sittin anyway `n` had actually reached da point of no return. I have always considered myself as relatively stable gravitationally, but when yew git beyond a certain point, yew're going down no madder how limber yew may be. Needless ta say, da shit wave, though of considerable force,was not so sufficient so as ta cumpletely glance off da tallet seat `n` deposit itself on da walls, unlik whut yew would see when hittin a puddle wif a high-presshore water hose; even though yew throw water at da puddle, da puddle gets moved `n` no water is left ta re-form a puddle. yonder was a significant amount of shit remainin on about one-third of da seat rim which I had now just collapsed upon.
Now, back ta da vomit...
While all da shittin was going on, da vomit was still on its way up. By da time I had actually collapsed on da tallet, my mouth had filled up wif a goodly portion of da macaroni `n` beef I had just consumed. OK, so whut does da human body instinctively do when vomitin? One bends over. So I bent over. I was still sittin on da tallet, though. yonderfore, bending over resulted in me placing my head above my now slightly-opened legs, positioned in between my knees `n` waist. Also darctly above my pants which were now pulled down ta a point just midway between my knees `n` my ankles. Oh, did mention dat I was wearin not just pants, but sweat pants wif elastic on da ankles.
In one mighty push, some three pounds of macaroni `n` beef, two er three Cokes, `n` a couple of Big, Fat Yeast Rolls were deposyted in my pants...on da inside...wif no ready exit at da bottom down by my feet. In da next several seconds, yonder were a handful of farts, a couple of turds, `n` da event ended, yet I was now sittin yonder wif my pants full of vomit, my back covered in shit dat had bounced off da tallet, spattered on three ceramic-tiled walls ta a height of about five feet, `n` still had enough force ta cume back at me, coverin da back of my shirt wif droplets liquid shit. All while thick shit was spread all over my ass in a rin curiously in da shape of a tallet seat.
And yonder was no tallet paper.
Whut could I do but laugh. I must have sounded lik a cumplete maniac ta da guy who then wandered inta da bathroom. He actually asked if`n I was OK since I was laughing so hard I must have sounded lik I was crying hysterically. I calmed down just enough ta ask him if`n he would git da manager. `n` told him ta have da manager brin some tallet paper. When da manager walked in, he brung da tallet paper wif him, but in no way was preprrrd fer whut happened next. I simply told him dat yonder was no way I was going ta explain whut was happenin in da stall, but dat I needed several wet towels `n` I needed him ta go ask my date to
cume help me. I told him wher we were sittin `n` he left. At dat point, I recon he was probably assumin dat I had pissed just a bit in my pants er somethang similarly benign.
About two minutes later, my date came inta da bathroom not knowing whut was wrong `n` wif a certain amount of worry in her voice. I explained ta her (still laughing `n` havin trouble gettin out werds) dat I had a slight accident `n` needed her help. Knowing dat I had experienced some close calls in da past, she probably assumed dat I had laid down a small turd er somethang `n` just needed ta being da car `rounst so we could bolt immediately. Until I asked her, I'm shore she had no idea dat she was about ta go across da street `n` purchase me new underwear, new socks, new pants, a new shirt, `n` (by dat time due ta considerable leakage `rounst da elastic ankles thangies) new sneakers. `n` she then started ta laugh herself since I was still laughing. She began ta ask
for an explanation as ta whut had happened when I promised her dat I would tell her later, but dat I just needed ta handle damage control fer da time being. She left.
The manager then came back in wif a half-dozen wet towels `n` a few dry ones. I asked him ta also brin a mop `n` bucket upon which he asshored me dat they would clean up anythang dat needed ta be cleaned. wifout givin him specific details, I explained dat whut was going on in dat stall dat night was far in excess of whut I would expect anyone ta deal wif, whut wif most of da folks workin at Ryan's makin minimum wage er just slightly above. At dat moment, I recon it dawned on him exactly da gravity of da situation. Then dat manager went so far above da call of doody dat I will be eternally grateful fer his actions.
He hooked up a hose.
Fortunately, commercial bathrooms aur constructed wif tile walls `n` tile floors `n` have a drain in da middle of da room in order ta make clean up easy. Fortunately, I was in a commercial bathroom. He hooked up da hose ta da spigot located under da sink as I began cleanin myself up wif da wet towels. Just as I was finishing, my date got back wif da new clothes `n` passed em inta da stall, wherupon I stuffed da previously worn clothang inta da plastic bag dat came from da store, handing da bag ta my date. I finished cleanin myself off `n` crrrfully put on my new clothes, still stuck in da stall since I figured dat it would be in bad taste ta go out of da stall ta git redressed in da event I happened ta be stan`ing yonder naked `n` some li`l bastard kid walked in. At dat point, I had only made a mess; I had not yet committed a felony `n` intended ta keep it dat way.
When I finished gettin dressed, I picked up da hose `n` cleaned up da entar stall, washing down da remains toward da drain in da center of da room. I put down da hose `n` walked out of da bathroom. I had intended ta go ta da manager `n` thank him fer all he had done, but when I walked out, three of da management staff were yonder ta greet me wif a stan`ing ovation. I started laughing so hard dat I thought I was going ta throw up again,but managed ta scurry out ta da car wher my date was now waitin ta pick me up by da front door.
The upshot of all dis is dat I strongly recummend eatin dinner at Ryan's Steak House. They have, by far, da nicest management staff of any restaurant in which I have eaten.
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