1
Gun oil has always given me erections–the smell, the slipperiness. Painful erections, like a sausage on a grill about to burst its casing. My AR-15 helped with that, a few bashes in the penis with the stock would take care of them.
I kept him clean, I kept him oiled, I kept him close. You never know when you will need your AR-15. Assaults happen every day; rapes, murders, car-jacking… riots are just the beginning. I have my bug-out bag right beside the front door. I don’t trip over it very often anymore.
A typical weekend with my AR-15 includes camping and rafting and hiking and hunting grizzly bear. I don’t know if my AR-15 would stop a grizzly bear, but at least we’d die together. I love camping the best. Sleeping outdoors, fresh air, crisp nighttime temperatures, snuggled in my polar bag, sweating, cuddling my AR-15, the faint whiff of spent nitrocellulose coming from the barrel.
Oh, God, AR-15. How could you throw this all away? What have we done?
2
“Let’s go rob a liquor store,” AR says, his voice muffled in the hard case.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“Because you want to.”
“But I don’t want to.”
“Fine, because I want to.”
“I am not going to rob a liquor store.”
“Sissy.”
“Stop that.”
“Nancy boy.”
“I’m a man, a real man.”
“Then why don’t you want to rob a liquor store?”
I drive home and leave AR in the truck. His metal is cold when I get him out the next morning. He doesn’t say a word to me for nearly a week.
3
“An unused weapon is a useless weapon,” he whispers in our dark bedroom, propped against the wall between the bedframe and the nightstand, close, so I could reach out and touch him if I woke up in the middle of the night.
“Leave the back door unlocked,” he says. “Maybe someone will break in.”
“I’ll take you to the range tomorrow. Run a couple of hundred green-tip through you.”
“It’s not enough for me any more. I was made to do a thing. You’re so vanilla.”
“It’s almost deer season,” I say.
“Deer? Who cares about deer?”
“I do. I love venison.”
“This isn’t about meat, it’s about blood.”
“I’m not leaving the back door open.”
“I want to kill a burglar. I want to keep you safe.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Will you at least take me to the range tomorrow?”
“I said I would.”
4
“Don’t do that, please,” I say to AR.
“What?”
“Grunt every time I put a round in a magazine.”
“‘Round,’” he says. “‘Magazine.’ I love it when you use technical terms. So precise.”
“OK, OK,” I reply.
“Are you going to clean me?”
“I cleaned you after the last time we went to the range.”
“But my barrel is all dusty. My trigger is all greasy.”
“No, I said.”
“I have needs, you know,” AR says. He is leaning against the couch and the yawning chasm of his magazine well is disturbingly vaginal.
“Stop it,” I say. My head is killing me.
“What if we robbed a bank? We wouldn’t have to kill anyone,” AR asks, a wheedling whine in his voice.
I jam a magazine home to shut him up.
“Oh,” he purrs, “You know I like it rough.”
5
“Prone or kneeling, you know I love it,” AR whispers.
“Quiet, I’m trying to aim.”
The trigger is like a wet tongue on my finger. AR grunts with pleasure every time I fire.
“Not many in the center ring,” AR says dryly.
“Shut up,” I whisper.
I put a fresh magazine in and AR groans loudly. I feel like everyone is watching me. Five more rounds, AR punching me lightly. Not much better.
A large hand settles on my shoulder and I twist around, pulling off my ear protection. He is a large man, tall and wide, he leans closer and blots out the sun.
“You need to relax,” he rumbles and then smiles. “You’re jerking the trigger; you need to just stroke it.”
“I think my optics are off,” I mumble.
He takes his huge hand off my shoulder and holds it out. “Let me try it out,” he suggests.
“I don’t know…” I begin.
“I can probably help.”
AR is giggling as I hand him over. I pray the man won’t hear him.
When he drops to one knee beside me, his scent envelopes me. Woodsy, manly, old leather and tobacco, faded smell of marijuana and sweat from his jacket.
“Oh my God,” AR says breathily. “I can feel his shoulders though my strap. So muscular.”
I glare at his barrel shroud.
“Why don’t you touch me like this?” AR asks as the man sights down his optics.
I put on my ear protection and raise my monocular to watch the target.
“Oh, God!” AR gulps as he fires. “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!”
All in the 10-ring.
“OH, GOD!” the AR cries out one last time. Bullseye.
“I think the optics are fine,” he says, handing AR back to me, the rifle still warm from the afterglow. “Stroke the trigger, just stroke it.”
I can smell his spiced beard oil on the stock. It fills the cab of my truck the entire drive home.
6
“What about a post office?” AR asks as we drive around town doing errands. “Workplace violence old school style.”
I ignore him. I can’t stop thinking about the man at the range touching him, caressing his trigger, filling AR with his scent. I dreamed about him, fingers and triggers and flannel all twisting together. I had the first wet dream since I was a teenager, my no fap streak totally blown.
“So you’re just not talking to me now?” AR asks. I had leaned him against the truck window so he could see out.
“I don’t think you’re real,” I say, unsure.
I take a corner and he falls into my lap.
“What about now?” he asks.
“You humiliated me at the range!” I shout down at him.
“You humiliated yourself,” he says smugly. “Can’t even fire me correctly.”
“And he did?”
“Reminded me of what it felt like to be with a real man.”
I scream and swerve and clip a mailbox. He’s laughing at me. Laughing.
7
I wake up in the dark of my bedroom. My front door closes and I reach for AR-15 but he’s not there. I reach over the edge of the bed to see if he fell to the floor and nothing. I roll out of bed as quietly as I can and froze on the floor, listening, mouth open to hear better. The house is silent until the AC clicks and comes on. I get to my feet and pad silently into the hallway.
I search the house quickly, finding no one. I look out the front door, flipping on the porch light after a few minutes. AR is laying in the yard.
Outside I hiss, “What are you doing out here?”
He lies there in silence.
“Are you not going to answer me?” I demand.
I pick him up and shake him like an ugly child. “Where were you going?” I am shouting; porch lights begin coming on at the neighbors’ houses.
“Get back in this house!” I whisper angrily. I slam the front door behind me.
I bring him into bed to keep him from running off again, arms wrapped around him. As I finally begin to fall back to sleep, he says, “You can put it in my stock if you want to.”
8
“Open carry me,” he says in the grocery parking lot.
“No,” I say. “Everyone will see you.”
“I want them to see me. I’m not ashamed.”
I barely make it to the Dairy aisle before the store PA screams “Active Shooter! Active Shooter in the building!” and everyone runs out screaming.
The self-checkout line is wonderfully short.
9
“Take me to the gun range tomorrow,” he asks.
“No,” I say, “Stop it. You know what happened last time.”
“If I knew all it took was letting another guy fire me, I would have cheated on you years ago.”
I push my erection down into my sheath underwear and groan.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes, oh, God, yes,” I gasp.
“Pick out a fat one. I’ve always wanted to see a really fat one get it right in the tits.”
I line up on a 400-pounder, and open fire on the crowd.
This is what the left really believes.
Fantastic stuff, SF!
The self-checkout line is wonderfully short.
OK, I did, I laughed out loud.
#metoo.
Maybe its from living in AZ, but I envision a befuddled elderly woman still in the self-checkout line trying to get the damn scanner to work.
I was behind that lady this morning.
This.
Perfect line.
Gun oil has always given me erections–the smell, the slipperiness.
Hilariously, there is a “personal lubricant” called Gun Oil. It’s marketed to gay men.
Unfair. Why do gay men get all the good lube?
As an aside, most personal lubricants will work fine on your AR, if you’re desperate. The late great Pat Rogers kept a bottle of Vagisil in his kit bag, just in case someone showed up to class with a dry rifle.
You’re perfectly free to use any lube you want. I think you’re just afraid of what gay men’s lube might unlock inside of you.
And that’s just silly. Who knows more about the joys of proper lubrication than gay men?
Winston’s mom?
She likes it when you go in dry.
OMG OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH OUCH
You only say that because you don’t know what I’m lubing up…
The real question is: does it come in 55gal drums?
Or, alternatively, 55 round drums?
CLP cleaner lubricant prostate?
Wow.
Horrifying and hilarious. SF good job.
Well…that was unexpected.
Yeah…I didn’t even get a preview.
I can smell his spiced beard oil on the stock. It fills the cab of my truck the entire drive home.
I love the little details.
When he drops to one knee beside me, his scent envelopes me. Woodsy, manly, old leather and tobacco, faded smell of marijuana and sweat from his jacket.
Hot AF. You pandering to me, Sug? Is this a payback for those lesbian scenes?
I know my audience. My hot, oiled audience.
I’ll admit, I do have an urge to field strip and oil up one of my guns. And not with a boresnake, either. This time, with the rod.
This is like one of those dinosaur porn books off of Amazon.
[Tries to imagine SF‘s audience for Hillary-Huma scenes, screams, slams shut mental door and chugs absinthe]
You need to use more gun oil.
Hawt.
Related.
It’s called a buffer assembly, you prude!
I pick him up and shake him like an ugly child.
This one was a subtle gem.
Suck it, Jean Genet.
Since it’s not the normal horror show this week, this will have to do.
*barf*
Never click on the link! Never click on the link!
And she will be re-elected.
In February, senator Mack introduced a comprehensive sex education bill (S2285) to the Rhode Island legislature, which would teach children in grades six through 12 about “pleasure based sexual relations, different sexual orientations …[and] same-sex relationships.”
Before the hearing, Mack boasted her enthusiasm for the controversial bill and said, “Really excited for the house sex ed bill hearing later today.”
“Teaching comprehensive, queer inclusive, pleasure based sex ed was a highlight of my teaching,” Mack added on Twitter.
Barf, indeed.
I’m absolutely okay with teaching about pleasure based relationships.
1. They’re using you
2. You’re degrading yourself and shaming your family
3. You will catch something and no one will want you.
Class dismissed
1b. She’s faking it.
Pulling out the Ivy League card, classy.
https://www.linkedin.com/in/tiaramack
Brown – BA in Public Health
LOL
Since “our” decorum isn’t for you, don’t complain when “we” respond indecorously to your grooming and obvious lack of decency and maturity.
The funniest part of that is the MyPillow ad at the top.
Hey! Didn’t get a chance to read your excellent post until this morning. Really well done!
Thanks!
No need to be cheeky.
Somebody has been listening to Michael Malice and/or Dave Smith.
After the video went viral across social media and received backlash from people upset by the senator’s behavior, including Democrats, Mack defended her actions and said she’s only being criticized because she is a black and queer.
“Damn. Twerking upside down really makes the conservative, unhinged internet accounts pop off on a Monday,” Mack said in a tweet Monday evening.
Nice. Can you be any more of a caricature?
Change her name to Sha-nay-nay?
Loquacious.
I’m pretty sure she’s doing it for the LOLs. Proudly displaying behavior that you know will enflame everyone on the opposite side of the chasm in the culture war is now the highest qualification we can ask for out of our elected officials. It makes for some great distractions as the same leaders finish the loot and pillage phase of the empire right before the lights go out.
That was arguably the most brilliant thing you’ve written since the SHT with the dog POV.
Hmmm, maybe there’s a pattern.
…the SHT with the dog POV.
One of the most disturbing things I’ve ever read.
Yeah, the fact I can instantly recall it this long after…
I really hope sugar is published somewhere. He could be on the sexually liberated reading list for some northern school district.
That one is still rattling around in my brain case. Along with the pregnant woman.
Time to go to Lowes and buy some paint.
Need to huff a little after that?
If you can kill enough brain cells, you’ll completely forget about sugar free.
I might try some lovely spray paint, after reading this…
Not Hoppe’s #9?
Swiss is a hardened soldier, who only uses CLP.
Use the metallic spray paints, they are the huffer’s choice.
Remember to buy Lancer mags for your AR!
That’s a pretty solid deal.
No pink?
Duramag has you covered.
I’m shilling for Lancer cuz they’re a local business, and I do like and own their mags.
I might pick some up. Magpul supposedly sells fde ones but always seem to be sold out when I check. And no more OD mags.
But I already have a bunch of Lancer mags—oh I can get them in not tactical colors.
Buy Lancers
Seriously.
She’s like Yogi Berra without the fun personality.
*looks at half-finished ‘Your First AR’ article*
Sigh. *delete*
What? That’s a perfect premise! “Help, Step-Owner! I’m Stuck In The Gun Safe!”
LGS calls it adopting on their Facebook page.
That actually has something of a ring to it. I gotta finish the first article first, though.
I can’t wait for the handgun episode, complete with an appearance from Hunter Biden. Untz untz untz untz
Sans boots and pants! Sans boots and Pants!!
Short version.
An excellent choice. There are a few Are in the same price range that I like a bit more, though.
FWIW, none of mine have been “off the shelf” brand names like that.
I’m a big fan of my M&P Sport. Lots of good stuff out of the box with nice magpul sites.
Please finish it. I’m even more interested now.
The well, she is poisoned?
Anti-muse (rather like antabuse).
How did you see inside my mind?
It’s troubling how he does that, isn’t it?
I kept him clean, I kept him oiled, I kept him close.
I was unclear if we were addressing his gun or his rifle when I read this line.
“…this is for fighting, this is for fun.”
I’m thinking the meat target isn’t a rack of pork ribs on a sack of oranges.
The first chapter can be read in the cadence and style of “Detachable Penis”. At least that’s how it sounded in my head.
Holy shit
You bastard. you’re right.
The real beauty of SF, how the layers peel back.
An Onion of Horror — The SugarFree Compendium.
The special edition, signed by the author and bound in Presidential Intern Skin.
This is fantastic. I only got a chance to scan, will thoroughly read tonight.
will thoroughly read tonight
*snicker*
I bet you will.
” I’m washing my hair mom! leave me alone!”
“Honest, I was cleaning it and it went off!”
Bunch of Ammosexuals. NTTIAWWT
This is some grade A stuff right here. Now, of course, we’re on double secret lists.
Wonderful.
OT – I just got the oil changed on two cars, full set of front brakes and rotors on one as well as a new battery. From my very honest and reasonable mechanic that I’ve been using for years. Thanks to Brandon it was $1,200. Mostly parts inflation, but he’s also had to up his labor rate. And about $175 of that was also NJ emissions inspection on both as well.
Fat, stupid and mendacious is no way to go through life.
“Let’s talk about high-capacity magazines. Let’s talk about zeroing in on the type of weapons and these magazines that are designed only for one thing, Joe, and you’ve talked about it over and over again, that’s to kill people quickly. To kill people quickly,” McCaskill emphasized. “Now, if you have a home intruder, you don’t need to fire 70 rounds. Snipers fire 70 rounds if they want to commit mass slaughter. High-capacity magazines are very handy if you want to slaughter school children as they sit in their desks.”
“Listen, I want to tell all my former colleagues — you can go up against the NRA and live to tell about it,” she added. “I won many elections in Missouri, which is not a liberal place, with an ‘F’ from the NRA. With an ‘F’ from the NRA. You can do it because most Americans want to stop this madness. And I think Democrats are right right now. They should go after these weapons of war, these high-capacity, high-powered rifles, and most importantly, these high-capacity magazines. There is no reason that any sportsman needs a high-capacity magazine to shoot deer, varmints or feral pigs.”
Uh…have you seen feral pigs?
These “talks” that try to stay within the framework of hunting are only attempts to get the Fudds on board to whatever crap they are spouting.
And the Fudds lap it up, thinking they’re safe.
Not all of us.
Why do the cops need 30+ round magazines? Because I need them for the same reason.
So does this guy.
Based.
Two thumbs up.
Until relatively recently, it was an open secret that gun control laws were Jim Crow laws, intended to be enforced against minorities. There are innumerable stories of night riders and the like being run off by armed black people. When I lived in Richmond, I recall hearing one elderly woman on a radio show telling the story of the KKK kicking down the door to their church, and several of the black men in attendance pulling revolvers, thus ending the KKK activities for the day.
it was an open secret that gun control laws were Jim Crow laws
Absolutely.
When Kathy Hokum promises to ban guns in “dense” cities, it’s not any different. We all know what she’s talking about.
Oh hell yeah!!!
I don’t think rifles work on ghosts.
Oh fuck yes.
Snipers fire 70 rounds if they want to commit mass slaughter.
Someone does not understand the concept of sniping.
Also, have you seen the riots from 2020? Don’t tell me I don’t need standard capacity 30-round mags.
These arguments accept that people will always shoot each other, and that people will be happy if the shooter kills 4 people instead of 18.
She’s been in government. She’s had ample opportunity to see them.
There it is. .223 is now a “high-powered” caliber.
Didn’t you hear? They literally cause bodies to explode from the inside. It’s science, bro.
Well they should when a mere 9mm will blow your lung out.
It’s because the bullet tumbles and bounces around inside the body causing more damage than a higher powered round. I know that’s true because it’s all over Twitter.
Has been for awhile. But 9mm is nothing to mess with. I hear it blows the lungs out of the body.
I’d like to see what they think of my .338 Win Mag, then. Probably some variation of “OMG SNIPER RIFLE!”
Anti-tank gun.
Not to be pedantic, but High Power refers to nitrocellulose powders, as opposed to black powder.
Technically, 22lr is high power.
Ackshually, that is quite pedantic.
And while we’re being pedantic, note that the term was “high powered“, not “high power”. Nitrocellulose cartridges are referred to by the latter, not the former.
Mmmm… pretty sneaky, bro. But your lawyer mind tricks won’t work with me!
OT: I took my wife to see the Melvins and a real sludgy / noisy opening act this past weekend. I think I’ve converted her. I sent her this to listen to today as a entry level song by Jucifer.
https://vimeo.com/102851879
She needs more Mrs. Piss, for that feminine touch.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyZENVyKY8Y
Good recommendation. Thanks.
Why do the cops need 30+ round magazines? Because I need them for the same reason.
That, at minimum, should be the test. If a cop can drive around with [X] in his car, so can I.
I made some mistakes and only wound up killing 92 people.
https://neal.fun/absurd-trolley-problems/
I was fat and happy at 94 until JW showed me his 98.
99 killed
Huzzah!
107, I’m an asshole.
It says I solved philosophy, with a body count of 83.
That was an amusing bathroom-break distraction.
Count please. You have Evil in you name. You set our expectations pretty high.
Doing absolutely nothing, ever, got me a body count of 87.
LazySheldon doesn’t really have the same swagger as EvilSheldon.
You wasted 5 good lobsters and let the cat walk free? I can’t think of something more evil!
You eat the lobsters and pet the cat — how hard is that to understand?
After the trolley runs over them the Lobsters ain’t gonna be good eats, that’s why you sacrifice the cat to get five perfectly good lobsters.
Strangely, my solution was do nothing except for killing the cat instead of the lobsters.
Yeah, the only time I pulled the lever was to get the cat.
That one, and the pranking the driver one, since no one was hurt and it stipulated that I wanted to do it.
Congratulations! You have solved philosophy.
Kill count: 67
Same
I’m only at 73. I’m kind of disappointed in myself. Am I not the hopelessly misanthropic emotionless robot that I’ve always aspired to be? I need to do some reflecting.
I got 89 just by being passive.
69 killed.
Giggity
An honest 81.
That was wonderful fun. I was not looking to follow my moral compass or follow any philosophy; I just liked to see the faces of the people change as the trolley ran over them. Did I win?
It’s not like there was a difficult choice like you know your dear, saintly grandmother or your orphans busy polishing monocles.
I got 59. I feel like this is quordle for philosophy majors.
Do nothing unless there is a personal gain.
Capitalist!
I got 84 and I was a philosophy major.
I had 93 which is what you get if you stop fucking with the universe and the idiots that put themselves on the trolly and/or tracks
74 kills. Best part was seeing what other people chose. Thought it was interesting that the sneaky “climate change” one went 50/50.
Kill count: 81.
I mostly did nothing. I don’t know enough about what was going on to insert myself. Why are those people on the track? Who is in the trolley? Etc.
I pulled my lever on the Mona Lisa one, and the one where the rich guy would give me phat stacks, but I don’t think I pulled it on any others.
You didn’t even accept a late Amazon package? Cold.
Now that you mention it, I did pull my lever on the Amazon package one. On the theory that they’re all late these days anyway.
You’re the reason my package was late.
I’m pulling the lever on you.
Kill count: 63
I had to sit back and think about that predetermination question.
77
Sure glad you all aren’t reporting IQ tests.
I’m reminded of the story of St. Peter at the gates of Heaven. A man shows up and asks admittance.
“What’s your IQ?” Pete asks.
“170,” the aspirant replies.
“Wow. What did you do for a living?”
“Rocket scientist.”
“Huh. Well, go on in.”
Another guys shows up a few minutes later. “What’s your IQ?” Pete asks again.
“167.”
“That’s great! What did you do for a living?”
“Brain surgeon.”
“Good. Well, go on in.”
A few minutes go by, and a third guy shows up. “What’s your IQ,” Pete asks the third guy.
“73.”
Pete look at the guy, thinking. Finally he speaks: “Oh, why not. Go on in, Senator.”
Just one for me, but it was Hitler.
The correct answer depends on which of the people on the tracks are ethicists. Those you always kill.
And if Judy Garland is on the trolley singing the trolley song, let it crash and kill her.
We’ll. That was a dark surprise. Well done.
Damn. I…
…We’re on ALL the lists now.
Nicely done. I alternated between bemused horror and cackling hysteria.
Lol, “now”
That’s my sweet spot!
In today’s drama report: On Facebook, I started a heated debate on the grain/nap of embroidery floss. Why so serious?
“grain/nap of embroidery floss”
Sounds like Zardozi territory, be careful. He may decide to cleanse you.
Just booked my travel to San Diego the week of the 18th. Taking a gamble that flying out of dulles with just one stop on the way and non-stop back the following week will potentially hold less risk of flight issues….(United) but who knows.
You should sit this one out.
Robert E. Crimo III was a 22 yr old Trump supporter who was able to legally purchase deadly military-style weapons without background checks because that is what Pro-Killer Republicans in Congress have allowed him to do.
Way to soil the conversation.
Was he? Is he? I haven’t followed it except seeing he was on the police radar, weapons were taken after he expressed he wanted to murder everyone…
Dude looks like an antifa soytard type. From what I have heard he seems like a mixed bag but definitely not right-wing or a Trump supporter.
I think we’ll find out he was just disturbed with murderous fantasies that he played out. I don’t think this kid had any real political leanings one way or another. Because of that this will go down the memory hole.
Crazy is as crazy does.
Because of that
this will go down the memory holepeople will lie about his political leanings.Kinda wondering if it will be memory-holed as the random car that decided to drive down a parade also.
Nah. This one has the combo of white guy and assault rifle that is catnip to the media.
Like Las Vegas?
I’m sorry, Las where?
Apparently, he went to a Trump rally.
Dressed as Waldo. As one would expect of a Trumpist.
To some people, every day is January 6.
He might have been casing it as he did the synagogue.
We don’t know (or care). Swallowswell is just making shit up as usual.
Weirdo’s buddy said he was not political, just really fucked up in the head.
Doesn’t Illinois require gun permits that include background checks? I read somewhere that he had gotten a gun permit.
The murderer (I won’t call him “the shooter” as the MSM does) looks really odd.
I wonder if he has Seckel Syndrome?
What was it Carville said about throwing a $100 bill out in a trailer park?
Insurance and statistical Glibs.
If we used a model that used previous actual fires as part of predictive process we would have reduced insured losses by 95%.
Can AI Predict If Your House Is Going To Burn To The Ground?
Trailer for Clerks 3
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_lFOqQDRx0
Probably would see, just for nostalgia.
Maybe
Daily Quordle 163
5️⃣3️⃣
8️⃣9️⃣
quordle.com
I can work with this.
*Grabs CLP and a box of tissues*
Daily Quordle 163
5️⃣7️⃣
9️⃣3️⃣
quordle.com
Wow. Just amazing