Quoted: why would the sheriff have to be contact for shooting full auto?
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Because at the range, a big old sign is posted out front that says that
"Y'r Spozta".
Fun Gardnerville range story! When I first took my rad new Norinco 84s .223 underfolder out to the range, I slapped in the first magazine and proceeded to bump that thing like it was a two-dollar whore and we were on a motocross track. All the asshole "Serious Shooters" oh, you know the type. Stodgy old douchedrinkers that take their Winchester Model 70 rifles that they bought back when they were thirteen dollars apiece (that's a long time ago, folks!) out to put their two rounds through "just to sight in" before deer season. They fire their one round, call a cold range, then walk
alllllllllllllll the way out to the 200 yard burm, squat down and carefully stare at their target, stroking the whiskers on their chin thoughtfully, staring through their off-mark hole with one eye pinched closed like an angry little anus. They then stand up on their creaky old knees and waddle
alllllllllll the way back to the stand, call for hot range. Carefully sit behind their bench rest on their little folding chair and take a long, thoughtful peer through the scope, squeeze off one round that bucks in their hand so violently that you'd swear they'd drop their rifle and break their forty dollar NCStar scope. They then stand up on creaky knees and repeat the whole process.
Anyhow, all these Serious Shooters were out in force, and there I was enjoying myself at a public, by-toll recreation area, blasting box after box of cheap-o Wolf 55gr. FMJ. Every Good Ol' Boy wearing one of those trucker hats in a non-ironic manner turns his idiot head and shoots a disdainful gaze at me. One had the
conejos (Spanish for 'rabbits' and I stand by it) to tell my partner (the hunchbacked metal-singing four-star chef) that I had a "bad attitude" and that I should "warn {them} before {I} did something like that" and how they were going to call a sheriff's deputy out there because I had an illegal machine gun and so on and so forth. I'd like to see him explain to a sheriff's deputy how I was... abusing a county recreation area... that I had to pay to get in to... by... enjoying myself... on it...
The best part, however, was when we were packing up, I noticed a guy with his 10/22 trying his hardest to get it to bumpfire. Simultaneously heartwarming and inflationary of my own sense of superiority over the rest of the fucksticks in this jerkwater berg.