GUNS GOD AND BOOZE: what's the problem?

We found this in a local Tea Party newsletter. We reprint it here without any comment.

Hi everyone. Just wanted to shoot off (ha ha) a few rounds here to update you on what we're dong to bring freedom, guns and god to everyone, even those who say they don't want them.

ROUND ONE: We've told you last time about our new gun-giveaway program for schools; they give away condoms in schools, so why not guns? We liked the idea, because, well, guns are safe when used right, and condoms when used right are sinful and disgusting. Well, that one didn't go over so good, thanks to the usual secular socialist liberals who hate our freedoms and thought maybe it would be a better idea if we just donated some computers to the schools.

And then there was the guns-for-babies program that really excited us, where every legally married couple would get a nice pink little gun, the kind that gals love and want to carry with them to protect them when they are walking alone at night. But, again, commie socialist atheist pinkos said this was extremely politically incorrect and maybe it would be better if we just gave every couple a nice gift certificate to Baby Gap instead.

This just shows how hard it can be to be a good patriotic citizen. Our liberties are being taken from us and nobody seems to care and every time we come up with something to make things better, the PC police show up and tell us to go back to the drawing board and come up with something else. Idiots, all of them!

ROUND TWO: And what are our liberal commie activist judges doing? Well, they are hard to work giving every jihadist Tom Dick and Hussein their Miranda rights, a lawyer and probably a map to all our nuclear generators. And they force the rest of us real Americans to buy health insurance or pay big fines! When they kill your granny, they are going to send you the bill?

ROUND THREE: If God didn't want us to shoot each other, he would not have made some of us such good shots. God doesn't want you to waste what he gives you. He gives it to you for a reason. So he made some of us expert marksmen so the herd can be culled to celebrate his glory.

What that means is: those who can, do. Those who can't, well, they miss the target and then everyone sees that they are no good at much of anything. Then no one wants to marry them and have kids with them. So they get depressed and feel sorry for themselves. Then go do something dumb like vote for Democrats and Commies. It happens all the time.

But here's the good news: their chances of having kids and passing those anti-gun genes on to the next generation are next to nothing. I figure that in a couple more generations, all those genes will be gone and we'll have guns everywhere, even in pre-schoolers' backpacks. I just wish I could be there to see it!

ROUND FOUR: God likes guns and he wants all of us to own a few and carry them wherever we go.
We know this because up where they found Noah's Ark up there in Turkey, they found some other important things. (There haven't been too many reports about this because of the atheists who run the media in our country.) What they left out, because it scares them: there was a draft of the 10 Commandments that mentioned guns up there! Of course, there were no guns way back then then, which makes you wonder why this was in the 10 Commandments and if it is real. But think of it this way: God likes guns so much that he was dropping hints way back then about them so that when they were around, we would know they came from God, just like freedom.

In fact, guns are freedom. They are a part of liberty and freedom and justice that God wanted us to have. That's why this commandment almost ended up as one of the 10. It read: “Thou shalt not have any trigger locks or any other impediments on thy guns, lest the intruders who fall upon your house and home in the darkness have time to draw upon thee and harm thee and thine before thou can gettest thy gun and shoot the aforesaid perpetrators of thuggery.” It's kind of a long commandment, too, so it's probably better that it was left out. But, still, doesn't that mean that government should keep its hands off our guns?

It just goes to show you, God really likes guns.

PAYOFF ROUND: What's wrong with carrying guns into bars? I know, I know, it's a touchy-feely thing with the above mentioned commies and liberals that real Americans can't handle guns when we've had a few. Well, I just want to say that I have been shooting guns my whole life, and I've been drinking my whole life, too. And I have all my toes, fingers, ears, legs, arms, etc., except for one thumb, but that was a gun-cleaning accident, not a booze and guns accident. And I have all my family members, except for my favorite dog that ran off into the woods where we were shooting at shadows and, well, maybe that old hound was one of the shadows. But we know we aren't angels. We like our booze and we like our guns. And we like the two of them together even more.

That's it for now. I gotta go reload and I'll shoot off a few more rounds when I'm ready.

A Hunter's Journal

Deer hunting season comes but once a year and provides real Americans with the chance to get in touch with their inner hunter-gatherers and bond with those souls everywhere who respond to the call of the wild. Those of us on the liberal fringes of society never experience this, because so many of us are vegans or PETA members or anti-gun or too bookish. Whatever it is, there is a huge chasm separating us. So we provide here a hunter's diary that we believe will bridge this gap by showing how the pursuit of deer with guns has shaped America and made American men the most independent and strong in the world. We liberals should learn much from this so that we, too, can be strong and independent.

It’s cold, it’s wet, and I can’t feel my toes. God, I love hunting. . . . Hope I don’t fall out of my deer stand again this year.

It’s the fresh air, the call of the wild, the guys, the guns, the bad jokes, peeing outdoors. I even like the planning. Where do we stay? Who’s buying the food? The booze? Who will cook and clean up? Women aren’t there to help with these things. Men have to do it all, and that’s what hunting is all about – strong, independent men bonding so the species survives for another generation.

I’m in my deer stand. Nothing can see me. Not any deer. Not any hunters. But bullets whiz by. What are they shooting at? I don’t see anyone, anything. Is there a deer out there? Wait a second . . . is that a deer? I shoot. I listen . . . I hear a moo. . . .

Wow, my feet are cold. Too bad about Joe. I miss him this year. Maybe he’ll be walking without pain next year. I bet Joe could have climbed up into the stand this year. I think he didn’t want to. I miss him. I miss just sitting here with our guns and cold feet. Maybe a little whiskey. Listening to the bullets whiz by. . .

Lunch time! Finally! Warm up my feet and fingers. Nothing like a couple burgers and fries. Comfort food. Whoa - hit the deck! Who’s shooting at this cabin? God, they hit the TV - damn, I wanted to watch some porn tonight. Wonder what they’re shooting at out there.

Back in my stand, still really cold. I see something move - I shoot. What is it? Dunno, but I probably missed. I’m such a bad shot!

Damn, if I don’t get something this year, I’ll never hear the end of it. Not after falling out of my stand last year and pulling Joe down with me. It really wasn’t my fault. Joe brought the whiskey up there and I was just standing up to piss over the edge when a couple of bullets whizzed by awfully close to me. They surprised me - anyone could have lost their balance. So I grabbed Joe.

Anyway, I don’t think the fall is what really hurt Joe so it’s not really my fault. I think that stray bullet that came out of nowhere and hit him in the leg while we were driving to the hospital is why his leg still hurts today. Can you imagine that? Driving down a county road and a bullet hits a passenger in the leg. A big black SUV doesn’t look anything like a deer . . . What are hunters thinking?

I’m feeling my toes again. That’s a good sign - it means I'm really alive! It's not like sitting in the office, falling asleep . . . Wait . . . I see something moving over there. I aim, squeeze the trigger slowly. Then a second shot. Did I hit it? Probably not. Damn! I thought for sure this was my year to get a dear, not a cow like last year. I tell you, if you shoot a cow and then fall out of your blind and break your friend’s leg - well, guys being guys, they won’t let you forget. I’ve heard jokes for a year.

Dinnertime. No one got a deer. Got a few shots off but no one is sure at what. But so what? What is important is that we are men. We are bonding, we are renewed, we are in touch with all the men of generations past who, like us, did what they had to do to ensure the species survived. And on our own, without women . . .

We’re eating steaks and drinking good whiskey. Another day has passed and the species has survived. But too bad about the TV. Plus our truck took a few bullets - one rear window is out and a couple holes in the side panel - nothing major, though.

But next year . . . we have to start planning . . . where should we go . . . where is the best hunting?