Irish At The Shooting Range

NOT to be construed that guns & alky are a good combo. I
just happen to like Guinness ... But not while I'm shooting.

Irish At The Shooting Range


Another wonderful day at the range when two Irishmen walk in. NO ... This is not an Irish joke. Read on ...

We went over the rudiments of gun safety, & the range rules, setting them up with a .38 & ammo. After a few minutes with them on the firing line I came back in the shop. The fellow I worked with HAD to make a comment:

"You rented a gun to a couple of Irishmen? Are ... you ... crazy?" Grin on his face.

"HEY! ... I'm Irish!"

"My point exactly."

"Hnnnngh!"

Their session over, the two gentlemen come off the range & we get to talking about Ireland & other subjects. Somehow the subject of gun control came up. Needless to say, they had a rather "European" outlook on that sort of thing. Also needless to say, we countered with our rather "American" viewpoint on such things.

It was a friendly argument, no voices raised but ... when one of them said "There are too many guns in America", I couldn't resist.

"Is this a great country or WHAT!?" Grin on my face.

They responded by giving me that "WHAT" look.

After a few more sentences between us, they left. I thought that was the last we'd see of them.

A couple weeks later, they came back for another go on the range. They stayed even longer after that & we picked up our conversation from where we left off. No opportunities for snappy rejoinders (Darn!) but they did go away a little more pro-gun than before.

We're all friends here.


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A Little Bigotry

Now if she had been more like this ...

A Little Bigotry

It's about six years back & I'm working at a cut-rate would be Wal-Mart chain as a check out clerk. A lady, late middle age, starts putting her stuff on the belt & we have a conversation. I notice a heavy German accent.

My usual "icebreaker" jokingly is: "I can tell by your accent, you're not from around here. Are you from New Jersey?"

She gets friendly & we get to talking about Germany. She was from Wiesbaden. I mention I have folks in Graz (Austria) & Wurzburg. She then asks if I'm German.

I reply "Irish, English, German, French, Hungarian & Portuguese."

A look comes on her face like she just swallowed something REALLY disagreeable.

"YOU ... Are a mutt!"

I suppressed the urge to tell her she wasn't exactly the "uberfrau" she wanted me to think she was. Not exactly valkyrie material. In fact, there's no cure for the kind of ugly she had. Gas maybe?

Even Hitler loosened up a bit & became inclusive after a while. Became a "pan-Aryanist". Even going so far as to say: "The Russians are as Aryan as we are." Hmm ... A bit late on that one.

My actual reply was not at all to her liking. It even surprised her.

"I don't think of myself as a mutt as much as I think of myself as a 'Super European'."

I must say, her Reinhard Heydrich impression was spot on.

We complete the transaction in silence & she leaves.

People ...

Asuka's NOT evil ... just terminally PMS.

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Strange Young Lady, Strange Little Movie

                                           Strange Young Lady, Strange Little Movie

                                                                           by

                                                                              Jay Agan

      I was cashiering at an unmentionable, cut rate, regional, merchandising, chainstore where I met an unusual co-worker. I noticed she would dye her hair (Death black, Chernobyl red, Jolly Ollie orange.) at regular intervals. Didn't think much of it at first though it certainly got the attention.

      A couple months into her employment, I found, through a chance discussion about movies, that she liked anime. (That certainly explained the interesting hair colorations.) This rekindled an old interest I had in the genre. By that time I had been collecting movies for a couple years & was seeking to expand in another direction. Anime seemed a colorful way of doing so & I haven't looked back scince.

      It wasn't only anime she was into, but all things Japanese. And she seemed such an intelligent person. She could speak German, & her Japanese was quite good. Not your typical anime geek, otaku, or Japanophile or whatever it was she considered herself. She told me she had Japanese ancestry (Which I found VERY hard to believe.) A chance meeting with her dad in the checkout line revealed she was about as Japanese as Irish stew.

      Getting to know her better as time went on, I would kid her about her interest in "them there furrin' cartoons". At times she would act rather sensitive about it. I'd say "cartoons", she'd say "anime" (Sometimes "ANIME ---- it!"). I'd say "comic books", she'd say "manga". She'd say "Banzai!", I'd say "John Wayne". You get the idea.

      We had this informal, on again/off again, semi-friendly feud for quite some time. I rather enjoyed it though she wasn't always receptive &, at times, rather peeved.

      One day. She did something ..... awful.

      Knowing I was into sci-fi & horror, she suggested I check out a certain Japanese made horror film. As it was a recently made flick, I was somewhat reluctant. I have an aversion to "modern" horror as they go for the gore, leaving plot & story behind. Most of my flicks were made before 1980 as I'm pretty much "old school" when it comes to horror (Price, Lugosi, Karloff, etc.)

      Knowing the Japanese do things differently, (As one fellow stated on the Universal Monster Army message board: "The Japanese are 30% weirder than the west. And I mean that in a good way."), I bought the flick cold, sight unseen. Something I rarely do. Oh yes. Name of the film: Audition.

      This is not a review, but I will say this film is not so much a horror film as it is a horror. The first 3/4 is a slow building psycho-drama. the last 1/4 ..... excriutiating. Agonisingly, tooth watering, ..... excriutiatingly PAINFUL to view.

      I'm there ..... watching. Hands gripping armrests, fingers convulsingly impressing prints into the wood. Sometimes, sitting sideways, hand over one eye. No screaming or yelling. Only little mewling squeals & gurgles welling up from the bottom of my throat, sometimes spasming into "Oh ..... my .....GOD!". My teeth & jaws hurt so much from all that gnashing & clenching.

      I know the guys' intentions were less than honorable, but ..... did he really deserve ..... that? I will never listen to the prelude of Bizets' Carmen the same way again. If you want to find out what happens in this movie, by all means, see it for yourself. Better yet, by all means, DON'T!

      For days (Weeks!) after, my workplace "friend" would taunt me with that weird little sound the movies' psycho-babe made while manipulating acupuncture needles:

      "Deeki deeki deekideeeee!" (Subtitles said, "deeper! deeper!)

      My usual procedure with flicks I'm less than satisfied with is to either give them away (I'd rather a movie is appreciated elswhere, than sit on a thrift store shelf.), or in this case, throw it out (Save the cases when you do that. They come in handy if you're a collecter.). As I was about to toss it, a thought occured to me (Yes, it does hurt when that happens!). I'll give it to a close friend.

      This friend is an interesting guy: Been in the service over twenty years. Well read/educated, PHD in history. Works for the government (So he's not ALL good, what the hey.). Part time college professor. Traveled the world, "Been there, done that." (At least twice.) Seen some combat (Doesn't care to talk about it.) The closest I've seen to a "Renaissance Man".

      So it was with some fascination/amazement/amusement I saw this guy get unhinged over a viewing of The Silence of the Lambs some years before.

      "Jay? ..... Jay! What's happening next!? What now!?"

      Gave him a sing songy, "not gonna tell ya, har har har!"

      "C'mon Jay!"

      "No way! Snicker, chortle!"

      "Agan ----it!"

      "Hee hee hee hee!" So it went. At times, my mind is not well.

      On one of his travels through, I dropped a bag of movies on him, making it a point to see this particular flick.

      Two weeks later, he calls me up for the express purpose of telling me what a vile piece of crud I am. Seems he made the mistake of watching it with his newly married wife. Now she has more doubts about me than before. (Due to the machinations of aforesaid merchandising chain, I missed their wedding & never met her. What George told her about me must have been interesting enough. Audition did not help.)

      Later, he got the urge to "share the love" & lent the disc to someone at his place of work. Now he's looked askance of by a couple other people.

      The world can be a brighter, better place if even only a few of us "pass it forward". I know it has for several other folks. All thanks is due to a rather strange young lady I met at work.

      You didn't think I was gonna blame myself ..... did you?

                                                       Article copyright © Jay Agan

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