Cuz Merica

[paradime]

0830 on a Sunday morning here.

 

I was told there would be no math on Cuz Merica.  :rolleyes:

[q-tip]

^^^^^ This is a good question.

 

IMlTHO I put it down to four things.

 

1. The stated belief by many Muricans that their 2nd amendment rights are inalienable;

2. The sheer volume of firearms (regardless of the type) in the possession of its citizens;

3. The generational belief (2nd amendment anyone?) that firearms are required in Murican society; and

4. The number of citizens in the U.S.A.

 

I’ve alluded to this before, sadly I believe Murica is too far down the path of points 1-4 to ever see a “significant” reversal/reduction in firearms related events.

You forgot one thing, the only ways in or out is plane or boat. Nobody walking illegal firearms in thru the woods or the dessert, unless Jesus came back and is into arms dealing. The us has a much larger much less securable border than straya in that aspect. Like I've always said criminals will always get what they aren't supposed to have.

[Ratwagon1600]

You forgot one thing, the only ways in or out is plane or boat.

^^^^ good point !

 

Obviously I forgot that one.

[125 CSL]

WTF is that ? i want that 2 minutes of my life back.That told me nothing.Half of it is bleeped out.Didn't bother finishing it.

Nik Cruz was troubled, broken family perhaps laid the foundation,....but it was the community that made him into the monster which he lashed out at.

[racerx]

Didn't you guys have like a ginormous gun buy back also.

[125 CSL]

2 major airlines, auto rental companies and others are feeling the pinch and pulled out of supporting NRA with discounts.

Actually there falling for the bot battle. Bank in Omaha pulled NRA card,...a state and city where I would bet almost everyone owns guns and a good number are NRA members. That is the problem with social media the ability to fake it with just a few people making it look like a major movement.

[racerx]

Hmmm, a few. I counted like 12-13 and others are thinking about pulling out.

[Ratwagon1600]

Didn't you guys have like a ginormous gun buy back also.

Moi ?

[datzenmike]

Actually there falling for the bot battle. Bank in Omaha pulled NRA card,...a state and city where I would bet almost everyone owns guns and a good number are NRA members. That is the problem with social media the ability to fake it with just a few people making it look like a major movement.

 

Probably the Russians trying to disarm America. Better get the FBI on this.

[paradime]

You forgot one thing, the only ways in or out is plane or boat. Nobody walking illegal firearms in thru the woods or the dessert, unless Jesus came back and is into arms dealing. The us has a much larger much less securable border than straya in that aspect. Like I've always said criminals will always get what they aren't supposed to have.

 

I'm seeing a pregnant irony here... a British penal colony is safer with guns than a British colony that fought for liberty. 

[Dguy210]

Like so many of of my friends and acquaintances (but not all), I felt a ball fisted sense of dread and anxiety when the orange crested shitbird took office. Over the past year, little has happened to relieve my resentments. I don’t normally live this way on a day to day basis so I think that subconsciously, I was looking to a way to relieve the pressure. And I won’t lie to you: I felt like lashing out. But what can a peon like me do, beyond joining the Women’s March with full gusto? I felt a long dormant revolutionary urge welling up inside. My devious and vengeful self was awakening, somehow unsatisfied with just the lawful approach.

Feeling this way one day last spring, I was struck by a tiny lightning bolt as I stood in the checkout line at the Safeway store. There on the little magazine rack, prominently displayed, was a short stack of National Enquirers. The vile, despicable Enquirer, the buddy pal of the orange crested shitbird himself. The enabler rag of all that is evil, feeding the mouthbreathers lies and propoganda on a weekly basis. The headline read something like ‘Hillary sodomizes alien, Bill is in a jealous rage!’ with the superhead of ‘Is that any way to say hello?’ It was something like that anyway, or perhaps even worse. Whatever the headline, suddenly my simmering resentment had a focal point.

 

I removed a copy from the rack and feigned interest for a moment before returning it to the rack upside down and backwards so that all that was displayed is the pointless back cover advertisement for ceramic birds of prey, now reading upside down. Finally, my dark side had been fed and simultaneously a dam had broken. I felt so much better after dishing out a little local market-vandal based payback to this disgusting waste of ink and paper. But somehow this singular act just wasn’t enough. After repeating it a few times I needed a bigger hit. I decided to file a customer complaint with the store. I asked the checker in a most polite manner, who I might offer my complaints to. She gave me an email address and a 1-800 number.

 

I emailed my complaints to Safeway Customer Care and included my phone number, politely encouraging a call. Not three weeks later, I recieved a call from them. The pleasant and perky young woman on the phone was obviously scrambling to grasp the specific nature of my complaint as we exchanged pleasantries.  “Now I sense that you are upset about the magazine racks at the checkstands?“ she asked gingerly. “No, I just want you to remove the National Enquirer from your store.“ Clearly, I had no hope that I could have everything I wanted with a single stroke, but I didn’t feel like dancing so it was worth a try. “So you do not care for the National Enquirer?“ I was getting the feeling that she was rapidly locking in on the possibility that this was a kook call- or worse, an old coot complaint. I also felt any hope for a desired result slipping away by the second. It was time to lay my cards on the table. “It is simple, really. I just can’t stand the sight of garbage right next to where I purchase my food.“ The logic of my arguement, no matter how audicious, rocked her for a moment. There was a pregnant pause. I sensed that she was scrambling for a stiuational fix and coming up empty.  All hope for a civil resolution to my cause was gone now. She gently rebuffed me, offering profuse thanks for my input while sincerely assuaging my concerns all along the way as she lead our conversation directly to the door.

 

And now I was spring loaded for a jihadi conversion. My Irish blood was up. This shit was on. 

 

Over the next two weeks, I refined my technique to the point where I could inconspicuously flip the Enquirer on every checkstand, plus the self-service island, without drawing the attention of the checkers or the store manager. I figured out when the new issue would be posted and hit it early and often. This was war.

 

One fine summer day, after flipping the new edition throughout the entire store- the one with the headline “How Trump will Save The World from the FBI!“ with the superhead “It’s All True!“ or something like that, I noticed that the checkers were fighting back meekly. Some previously flipped copies were hastily and haphazardly returned to face forward. Those were, of course, re-targeted immediately, General Schwartzkof style.  As I processed through the checkstand with my grocery purchases, I flipped the last stack of Enquirers with  consummate skill when I heard a womans voice from behind me: “What exactly are you doing?“

 

Caught red handed, I turned to discover a pleasant faced woman, about my age, entering the line right behind me, scouring me with a rather concerned look. I wondered if she had noticed me flipping the entire store. Maybe she was a Safeway detective, collaring the vermin who was killing their National Enquirer sales. At this point, I just decided to go for broke. While we waited for the customer ahead of us to finish I explained to her, in a quiet voice, that I could not abide the sight of garbage next to where I purchase my food. Bolstered by repetition, my rationalization for this indefenseable act almost sounded like The Truth now.  I waited for whatever reaction I surely deserved. After a thoughtful pause, her face broke into a beaming mischievious smile. She leaned forward over her basket and in a low voice she said “Oh, I like that!“

 

Over the next few weeks, I noticed that the checkers were slowly giving up the fight. New editions would sit all week without being returned to face up. As this development unfolded, I noticed that often, the brand new editions were being flipped before I could get to them. And that’s when I realized that the ELA- the Enquirer Liquidation Army- was born. By then, the store was reducing the number of stands that even carried the Enquirer or the Globe to just the self service island and that edition was almost always ways flipped before I could get to it. I started visiting other grocery stores.

 

She must have told others because I went into the west side Albertsons one day only to find the entire store was already flipped. On another ocassion, I discovered that the Frog Pond Grocery- a tabloid bonanza- was already half flipped, so I finished the job. As the war spreads across the city, it is safe to say that Olympia market revenues from poison pen tabloids are probably down a bit this year. But we have only just begun. Maybe it is time to spread the word and scale up.

 

It doesn’t restore the democracy, but every flip soothes the soul and feels like a tiny blow for freedom. I am not advocating anything for you, but it is really easy to join the ELA if you want to. All you need is a dose of open resentment and to dust off a few of your old teen age vandalism skills. 

 

It could do a heart good to start seeing stores flipped all over the place.

 

 

Just sayin‘

 

 

flipper general

 

 

Is this copy pasta from somewhere?

 

Because my googling for this comes up empty....which surprised me actually as this is some high-powered 4chan-ish text.

 

If this is real OC...just wow...and get help  :rofl:

[tr8er]

HAAA! ELA. I usually put another mag in front, but same effect. I hate register sales bullshit. It should be shit you usually forget to grab, and there is some of that stuff. Nail clippers, lighters, batteries. But the other shit pisses me the fuck off too.

[paradime]

Is this copy pasta from somewhere?

 

Because my googling for this comes up empty....which surprised me actually as this is some high-powered 4chan-ish text.

 

If this is real OC...just wow...and get help  :rofl:

 

TMI maybe, but "this is some high-powered 4chan-ish text"?  LOL, and you think 720inOlyWa needs help. 

[Dguy210]

TMI maybe, but "this is some high-powered 4chan-ish text"?  LOL, and you think 720inOlyWa needs help. 

 

[I'm BLUE]

Like so many of of my friends and acquaintances (but not all), I felt a ball fisted sense of dread and anxiety when the orange crested shitbird took office. Over the past year, little has happened to relieve my resentments. I don’t normally live this way on a day to day basis so I think that subconsciously, I was looking to a way to relieve the pressure. And I won’t lie to you: I felt like lashing out. But what can a peon like me do, beyond joining the Women’s March with full gusto? I felt a long dormant revolutionary urge welling up inside. My devious and vengeful self was awakening, somehow unsatisfied with just the lawful approach.

Feeling this way one day last spring, I was struck by a tiny lightning bolt as I stood in the checkout line at the Safeway store. There on the little magazine rack, prominently displayed, was a short stack of National Enquirers. The vile, despicable Enquirer, the buddy pal of the orange crested shitbird himself. The enabler rag of all that is evil, feeding the mouthbreathers lies and propoganda on a weekly basis. The headline read something like ‘Hillary sodomizes alien, Bill is in a jealous rage!’ with the superhead of ‘Is that any way to say hello?’ It was something like that anyway, or perhaps even worse. Whatever the headline, suddenly my simmering resentment had a focal point.I removed a copy from the rack and feigned interest for a moment before returning it to the rack upside down and backwards so that all that was displayed is the pointless back cover advertisement for ceramic birds of prey, now reading upside down. Finally, my dark side had been fed and simultaneously a dam had broken. I felt so much better after dishing out a little local market-vandal based payback to this disgusting waste of ink and paper. But somehow this singular act just wasn’t enough. After repeating it a few times I needed a bigger hit. I decided to file a customer complaint with the store. I asked the checker in a most polite manner, who I might offer my complaints to. She gave me an email address and a 1-800 number.I emailed my complaints to Safeway Customer Care and included my phone number, politely encouraging a call. Not three weeks later, I recieved a call from them. The pleasant and perky young woman on the phone was obviously scrambling to grasp the specific nature of my complaint as we exchanged pleasantries. “Now I sense that you are upset about the magazine racks at the checkstands?“ she asked gingerly. “No, I just want you to remove the National Enquirer from your store.“ Clearly, I had no hope that I could have everything I wanted with a single stroke, but I didn’t feel like dancing so it was worth a try. “So you do not care for the National Enquirer?“ I was getting the feeling that she was rapidly locking in on the possibility that this was a kook call- or worse, an old coot complaint. I also felt any hope for a desired result slipping away by the second. It was time to lay my cards on the table. “It is simple, really. I just can’t stand the sight of garbage right next to where I purchase my food.“ The logic of my arguement, no matter how audicious, rocked her for a moment. There was a pregnant pause. I sensed that she was scrambling for a stiuational fix and coming up empty. All hope for a civil resolution to my cause was gone now. She gently rebuffed me, offering profuse thanks for my input while sincerely assuaging my concerns all along the way as she lead our conversation directly to the door.And now I was spring loaded for a jihadi conversion. My Irish blood was up. This shit was on. Over the next two weeks, I refined my technique to the point where I could inconspicuously flip the Enquirer on every checkstand, plus the self-service island, without drawing the attention of the checkers or the store manager. I figured out when the new issue would be posted and hit it early and often. This was war.One fine summer day, after flipping the new edition throughout the entire store- the one with the headline “How Trump will Save The World from the FBI!“ with the superhead “It’s All True!“ or something like that, I noticed that the checkers were fighting back meekly. Some previously flipped copies were hastily and haphazardly returned to face forward. Those were, of course, re-targeted immediately, General Schwartzkof style. As I processed through the checkstand with my grocery purchases, I flipped the last stack of Enquirers with consummate skill when I heard a womans voice from behind me: “What exactly are you doing?“Caught red handed, I turned to discover a pleasant faced woman, about my age, entering the line right behind me, scouring me with a rather concerned look. I wondered if she had noticed me flipping the entire store. Maybe she was a Safeway detective, collaring the vermin who was killing their National Enquirer sales. At this point, I just decided to go for broke. While we waited for the customer ahead of us to finish I explained to her, in a quiet voice, that I could not abide the sight of garbage next to where I purchase my food. Bolstered by repetition, my rationalization for this indefenseable act almost sounded like The Truth now. I waited for whatever reaction I surely deserved. After a thoughtful pause, her face broke into a beaming mischievious smile. She leaned forward over her basket and in a low voice she said “Oh, I like that!“Over the next few weeks, I noticed that the checkers were slowly giving up the fight. New editions would sit all week without being returned to face up. As this development unfolded, I noticed that often, the brand new editions were being flipped before I could get to them. And that’s when I realized that the ELA- the Enquirer Liquidation Army- was born. By then, the store was reducing the number of stands that even carried the Enquirer or the Globe to just the self service island and that edition was almost always ways flipped before I could get to it. I started visiting other grocery stores.She must have told others because I went into the west side Albertsons one day only to find the entire store was already flipped. On another ocassion, I discovered that the Frog Pond Grocery- a tabloid bonanza- was already half flipped, so I finished the job. As the war spreads across the city, it is safe to say that Olympia market revenues from poison pen tabloids are probably down a bit this year. But we have only just begun. Maybe it is time to spread the word and scale up.It doesn’t restore the democracy, but every flip soothes the soul and feels like a tiny blow for freedom. I am not advocating anything for you, but it is really easy to join the ELA if you want to. All you need is a dose of open resentment and to dust off a few of your old teen age vandalism skills. It could do a heart good to start seeing stores flipped all over the place.Just sayin‘flipper general

Clever. Thank you for breaking up the monotony...... lol

 

.........we could use some smoke......

[Dolomite]

Like so many of of my friends and acquaintances (but not all), I felt a ball fisted sense of dread and anxiety when the orange crested shitbird took office. Over the past year, little has happened to relieve my resentments. I don’t normally live this way on a day to day basis so I think that subconsciously, I was looking to a way to relieve the pressure. And I won’t lie to you: I felt like lashing out. But what can a peon like me do, beyond joining the Women’s March with full gusto? I felt a long dormant revolutionary urge welling up inside. My devious and vengeful self was awakening, somehow unsatisfied with just the lawful approach.

Feeling this way one day last spring, I was struck by a tiny lightning bolt as I stood in the checkout line at the Safeway store. There on the little magazine rack, prominently displayed, was a short stack of National Enquirers. The vile, despicable Enquirer, the buddy pal of the orange crested shitbird himself. The enabler rag of all that is evil, feeding the mouthbreathers lies and propoganda on a weekly basis. The headline read something like ‘Hillary sodomizes alien, Bill is in a jealous rage!’ with the superhead of ‘Is that any way to say hello?’ It was something like that anyway, or perhaps even worse. Whatever the headline, suddenly my simmering resentment had a focal point.I removed a copy from the rack and feigned interest for a moment before returning it to the rack upside down and backwards so that all that was displayed is the pointless back cover advertisement for ceramic birds of prey, now reading upside down. Finally, my dark side had been fed and simultaneously a dam had broken. I felt so much better after dishing out a little local market-vandal based payback to this disgusting waste of ink and paper. But somehow this singular act just wasn’t enough. After repeating it a few times I needed a bigger hit. I decided to file a customer complaint with the store. I asked the checker in a most polite manner, who I might offer my complaints to. She gave me an email address and a 1-800 number.I emailed my complaints to Safeway Customer Care and included my phone number, politely encouraging a call. Not three weeks later, I recieved a call from them. The pleasant and perky young woman on the phone was obviously scrambling to grasp the specific nature of my complaint as we exchanged pleasantries.  “Now I sense that you are upset about the magazine racks at the checkstands?“ she asked gingerly. “No, I just want you to remove the National Enquirer from your store.“ Clearly, I had no hope that I could have everything I wanted with a single stroke, but I didn’t feel like dancing so it was worth a try. “So you do not care for the National Enquirer?“ I was getting the feeling that she was rapidly locking in on the possibility that this was a kook call- or worse, an old coot complaint. I also felt any hope for a desired result slipping away by the second. It was time to lay my cards on the table. “It is simple, really. I just can’t stand the sight of garbage right next to where I purchase my food.“ The logic of my arguement, no matter how audicious, rocked her for a moment. There was a pregnant pause. I sensed that she was scrambling for a stiuational fix and coming up empty.  All hope for a civil resolution to my cause was gone now. She gently rebuffed me, offering profuse thanks for my input while sincerely assuaging my concerns all along the way as she lead our conversation directly to the door.And now I was spring loaded for a jihadi conversion. My Irish blood was up. This shit was on. Over the next two weeks, I refined my technique to the point where I could inconspicuously flip the Enquirer on every checkstand, plus the self-service island, without drawing the attention of the checkers or the store manager. I figured out when the new issue would be posted and hit it early and often. This was war.One fine summer day, after flipping the new edition throughout the entire store- the one with the headline “How Trump will Save The World from the FBI!“ with the superhead “It’s All True!“ or something like that, I noticed that the checkers were fighting back meekly. Some previously flipped copies were hastily and haphazardly returned to face forward. Those were, of course, re-targeted immediately, General Schwartzkof style.  As I processed through the checkstand with my grocery purchases, I flipped the last stack of Enquirers with  consummate skill when I heard a womans voice from behind me: “What exactly are you doing?“Caught red handed, I turned to discover a pleasant faced woman, about my age, entering the line right behind me, scouring me with a rather concerned look. I wondered if she had noticed me flipping the entire store. Maybe she was a Safeway detective, collaring the vermin who was killing their National Enquirer sales. At this point, I just decided to go for broke. While we waited for the customer ahead of us to finish I explained to her, in a quiet voice, that I could not abide the sight of garbage next to where I purchase my food. Bolstered by repetition, my rationalization for this indefenseable act almost sounded like The Truth now.  I waited for whatever reaction I surely deserved. After a thoughtful pause, her face broke into a beaming mischievious smile. She leaned forward over her basket and in a low voice she said “Oh, I like that!“Over the next few weeks, I noticed that the checkers were slowly giving up the fight. New editions would sit all week without being returned to face up. As this development unfolded, I noticed that often, the brand new editions were being flipped before I could get to them. And that’s when I realized that the ELA- the Enquirer Liquidation Army- was born. By then, the store was reducing the number of stands that even carried the Enquirer or the Globe to just the self service island and that edition was almost always ways flipped before I could get to it. I started visiting other grocery stores.She must have told others because I went into the west side Albertsons one day only to find the entire store was already flipped. On another ocassion, I discovered that the Frog Pond Grocery- a tabloid bonanza- was already half flipped, so I finished the job. As the war spreads across the city, it is safe to say that Olympia market revenues from poison pen tabloids are probably down a bit this year. But we have only just begun. Maybe it is time to spread the word and scale up.It doesn’t restore the democracy, but every flip soothes the soul and feels like a tiny blow for freedom. I am not advocating anything for you, but it is really easy to join the ELA if you want to. All you need is a dose of open resentment and to dust off a few of your old teen age vandalism skills. It could do a heart good to start seeing stores flipped all over the place.Just sayin‘flipper general

Get psychiatric help...please...before you make headlines yourself.

[Jesse C.]

You guys actually read all that? Fuck that shit! 

[Dolomite]

You guys actually read all that? Fuck that shit!

 

No, just enough to realize this is a fucking majorly maladjusted individual with scary tendencies.

[q-tip]

I'm seeing a pregnant irony here... a British penal colony is safer with guns than a British colony that fought for liberty.

Not quite, on an island that was a former British penal colony it is easier to control the populous than the former colony that fought for it's independence, hence why it was a penal colony.

[Dguy210]

Not quite, on an island that was a former British penal colony it is easier to control the populous than the former colony that fought for it's independence, hence why it was a penal colony.

Wait, are you saying that different countries are different?

That a country that said "fuck you" to the British might have a slightly different attitude to that of a former penal colony‽

 

Perish the thought.

[MikeRL411]

Not quite, on an island that was a former British penal colony it is easier to control the populous than the former colony that fought for it's independence, hence why it was a penal colony.

 

Check your history books.  Before the American Revolution ended sucessfully [for us]. prisoners sentenced to "transportation" were sent to the American colony of Georgia !  Having lost this convenient dumping ground, Australia was the next choice .

[datzenmike]

Being banished from Britain the prisoners probably said fuck you too.

[paradime]

Check your history books.  Before the American Revolution ended sucessfully [for us]. prisoners sentenced to "transportation" were sent to the American colony of Georgia !  Having lost this convenient dumping ground, Australia was the next choice .

Good point, and interesting link Mike. Summers in Georgia can be punishing in deed, but it was Q's final sentence "Like I've always said *criminals* will always get what they aren't supposed to have." that struck me as ironic in the context of comparing gun violence in AU vs US. 

 

Like I've always said, you can lead q-tip to irony, but you can't make him soak it up.   ;) I jab with all due respect.

[paradime]

It was the gin.

[bananahamuck]

Being banished from Britain the prisoners probably said fuck you too.

 

Yeah but they most likely said it that goofy ass Russel Brand voice they got ,, so everyone just kinda squinted their eyes and shook their heads at them

 

 Oh  ,, ello gov'na ,, and fuck you to ..

 

Or something just as annoying  

 

 

.

.