Day of Deeds

By the time most of y’all read this, I will be off to Whidbey Island to put some holes in paper for cash (hopefully).

I was so busy yesterday, getting things, including myself, ready for the match that I absolutely forget to link to the Carnival of Cordite.

It is residing at The Baboon Pirates this week.

I also got a note from both Gullyborg, creator of the CoC, and Headmistress SondraK about a fellow blogger, Chris at The Anarchangel, who has had a very real life Fatwa issued upon him, at least if the Fibbies who contacted him and his family are to be believed.

MotherPussBucket!

Here I am blogging for over two years now and still no Fatwa for the Analog Kid! What am I, chopped liver here? I’m probably a bigger infidel than Chris is, I don’t even have a god that I worship, which makes me lower than a Christian and not even worth holding for ransom!

I’ve also spoken multiple times here at RNS about marching members of the new Mujahadeen into the Puget Sound at the point of my shotgun! C’mon you fuckin’ goat raping pedophile worshipping sons of sand gnats, get off your asses, I’m right here! I haven’t gone anywhere and I’m not hiding!

Please give me a Fatwa, please! Once you declare a Fatwa on me I can legally, oh yes, quite legally, begin hunting you right back, you shit stains in Allah’s cotton briefs! And boy, what an easy hunt that would be, what with you stinking worse than any bear I’ve ever bagged and tagged and the fact that most bear are smarter than you.

You’d be fucking lucky if I just behead you and stick your bacon wrapped cranium on top of a chunk of re-bar stuck in my front yard for my neighbors to see. Especially the one with the ignorant ‘No Blood for Oil’ bumper sticker on the back of her “Dodge Caravan of Many Colors”.

But I wouldn’t save all the fun for myself, oh no; I’ve got too many friends who speak a certain Cyrillic based language and whose knuckles drag on the ground from not being lucky enough to get a spot in a mechanized unit of the old Soviet Army who’d love to have some playtime with you. Hell, I’d pay them $500 a head for every one of you limp-dicked mamas-boys they brought to me (even though they’d probably do it for free).

They remember your sit-on-their-asses-and-don’t-do-shit-drugged-out Chechen brethren from the bad old days. One of them even had to go home for a funeral in the aftermath of Beslan. I think I’d just let him have his way with whomever he caught.

So come on, you lazy camel fuckers! I just got another case of ammo off the truck and I’d hate to have to just put it into storage, give me a fatwa!

You think I’m joking, test me you folowers of a false prophet. This won’t be the first time I’ve had to deal with you sons of bastards. Your fathers and your sons will be on their knees before me begging for mercy, but they will renounce Allah before they get any.

Bah! Always a bridesmaid, but never a bride.

Head on over the Archangel’s place and read. I’m off to the range.