I cried when I read this

Pocket Taser Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife.


A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Taser for their
anniversary submitted this:


Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop
that sparked my interest. The occasion was our
15th anniversary
and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife
Julie.

What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized
taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short
lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant,
allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and
Brought it home.

I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the
button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however,
that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal
surface
at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting
back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn
spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to
myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A
batteries, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently
(trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and
thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh
& blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of
a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat.
But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect
herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it
would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my
reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose,
directions in one hand, and taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and
disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to
cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a
three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop
on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than
three seconds would be wasting the batteries. All the while
I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5' long, less
than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded
with
two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no
possible way!'
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do
my best...? I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with
her
head cocked to one side as to say, ' don't do it dipshit,'
reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole
thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a
one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to
my naked thigh, pushed the button, and .. . . HOLY MOTHER OF
GOD . . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door,
picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the
carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking
up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes,
body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be
found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest
position, and tingling in my legs?
The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before,
clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace,
obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body
flopping all over the living room..

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a
taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one
second
burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that
thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent
thrashing
about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered
conservative?

SON-OF-A-BITCH, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative
thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had
left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading
glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was
upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally
was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still
twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with
Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control
over the
drooling. Apparently I shit myself, but was too numb to know
for sure and my sense of smell was gone.; I saw a faint smoke
cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I'm
still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant
reward for their safe return!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me
with it!

'If you think Education is difficult, try being stupid!

Postville

Most of you have heard about the raid in Postville last week were over 300 people were arrested for being in our country illegally. Frankly I think it is about time that something like that was done. I am sick and tired of hearing about how horrible the government is for going in and breaking up these families by taking one of the spouses and making the others go into hiding. They are breaking the law!! Are we suppose to turn our head and look the other way when someone breaks the law by stealing, as long as they put in a good days work first? No! So why is this any different? It isn't. I also watched one of the news brodcasts that pointed out that Agriprocessors doanated X number of dollars to republicans at the last election. Making it look like republicans were all infavor of people being here illegally. Actually maybe it was because Agri is a Jewish owned company and Republicans have a good record of being pro Isreal. I don't know but I'm sick in tired of people making my government look bad when it is obviously the best one in the world, otherwise people would not be trying to get in.

Senator McCain

It's been along time since I last posted and I apologize. If any of you are still reading thanks. I know I have been very critical of Senator McCain, and I still am not sure that I want him as president. I may vote for him but I still think others would have been better options. That said, this article from the Wall Street Journel by Karl Rove, does give me some hope that McCain will not be as bad as I fear.

Getting to Know John McCain

By KARL ROVE
April 30, 2008; Page A17

It came to me while I was having dinner with Doris Day. No, not that Doris Day. The Doris Day who is married to Col. Bud Day, Congressional Medal of Honor recipient, fighter pilot, Vietnam POW and roommate of John McCain at the Hanoi Hilton.

As we ate near the Days' home in Florida recently, I heard things about Sen. McCain that were deeply moving and politically troubling. Moving because they told me things about him the American people need to know. And troubling because it is clear that Mr. McCain is one of the most private individuals to run for president in history.

When it comes to choosing a president, the American people want to know more about a candidate than policy positions. They want to know about character, the values ingrained in his heart. For Mr. McCain, that means they will want to know more about him personally than he has been willing to reveal.

Mr. Day relayed to me one of the stories Americans should hear. It involves what happened to him after escaping from a North Vietnamese prison during the war. When he was recaptured, a Vietnamese captor broke his arm and said, "I told you I would make you a cripple."

The break was designed to shatter Mr. Day's will. He had survived in prison on the hope that one day he would return to the United States and be able to fly again. To kill that hope, the Vietnamese left part of a bone sticking out of his arm, and put him in a misshapen cast. This was done so that the arm would heal at "a goofy angle," as Mr. Day explained. Had it done so, he never would have flown again.

But it didn't heal that way because of John McCain. Risking severe punishment, Messrs. McCain and Day collected pieces of bamboo in the prison courtyard to use as a splint. Mr. McCain put Mr. Day on the floor of their cell and, using his foot, jerked the broken bone into place. Then, using strips from the bandage on his own wounded leg and the bamboo, he put Mr. Day's splint in place.

Years later, Air Force surgeons examined Mr. Day and complemented the treatment he'd gotten from his captors. Mr. Day corrected them. It was Dr. McCain who deserved the credit. Mr. Day went on to fly again.

Another story I heard over dinner with the Days involved Mr. McCain serving as one of the three chaplains for his fellow prisoners. At one point, after being shuttled among different prisons, Mr. Day had found himself as the most senior officer at the Hanoi Hilton. So he tapped Mr. McCain to help administer religious services to the other prisoners.

Today, Mr. Day, a very active 83, still vividly recalls Mr. McCain's sermons. "He remembered the Episcopal liturgy," Mr. Day says, "and sounded like a bona fide preacher." One of Mr. McCain's first sermons took as its text Luke 20:25 and Matthew 22:21, "render unto Caesar what is Caesar's and unto God what is God's." Mr. McCain said he and his fellow prisoners shouldn't ask God to free them, but to help them become the best people they could be while serving as POWs. It was Caesar who put them in prison and Caesar who would get them out. Their task was to act with honor.

Another McCain story, somewhat better known, is about the Vietnamese practice of torturing him by tying his head between his ankles with his arms behind him, and then leaving him for hours. The torture so badly busted up his shoulders that to this day Mr. McCain can't raise his arms over his head.

One night, a Vietnamese guard loosened his bonds, returning at the end of his watch to tighten them again so no one would notice. Shortly after, on Christmas Day, the same guard stood beside Mr. McCain in the prison yard and drew a cross in the sand before erasing it. Mr. McCain later said that when he returned to Vietnam for the first time after the war, the only person he really wanted to meet was that guard.


Mr. Day recalls with pride Mr. McCain stubbornly refusing to accept special treatment or curry favor to be released early, even when gravely ill. Mr. McCain knew the Vietnamese wanted the propaganda victory of the son and grandson of Navy admirals accepting special treatment. "He wasn't corruptible then," Mr. Day says, "and he's not corruptible today."

The stories told to me by the Days involve more than wartime valor.

For example, in 1991 Cindy McCain was visiting Mother Teresa's orphanage in Bangladesh when a dying infant was thrust into her hands. The orphanage could not provide the medical care needed to save her life, so Mrs. McCain brought the child home to America with her. She was met at the airport by her husband, who asked what all this was about.

Mrs. McCain replied that the child desperately needed surgery and years of rehabilitation. "I hope she can stay with us," she told her husband. Mr. McCain agreed. Today that child is their teenage daughter Bridget.

I was aware of this story. What I did not know, and what I learned from Doris, is that there was a second infant Mrs. McCain brought back. She ended up being adopted by a young McCain aide and his wife.

"We were called at midnight by Cindy," Wes Gullett remembers, and "five days later we met our new daughter Nicki at the L.A. airport wearing the only clothing Cindy could find on the trip back, a 7-Up T-shirt she bought in the Bangkok airport." Today, Nicki is a high school sophomore. Mr. Gullett told me, "I never saw a hospital bill" for her care.

A few, but not many, of the stories told to me by the Days have been written about, such as in Robert Timberg's 1996 book "A Nightingale's Song." But Mr. McCain rarely refers to them on the campaign trail. There is something admirable in his reticence, but he needs to overcome it.

Private people like Mr. McCain are rare in politics for a reason. Candidates who are uncomfortable sharing their interior lives limit their appeal. But if Mr. McCain is to win the election this fall, he has to open up.

Americans need to know about his vision for the nation's future, especially his policy positions and domestic reforms. They also need to learn about the moments in his life that shaped him. Mr. McCain cannot make this a biography-only campaign â¤" but he can't afford to make it a biography-free campaign either. Unless he opens up more, many voters will never know the experiences of his life that show his character, integrity and essential decency.

These qualities mattered in America's first president and will matter as Americans decide on their 44th president.

Mr. Rove is the former senior adviser and deputy chief of staff to President George W. Bush.