effengee
Member
First of all, I love this forum... It's been a long strange trip throughout the years and I've met some really cool people and some really not so cool people...
I've been berated for some foolish posts and will probably Pee somebody off with this one, but you should all know this:
I live in rural Vermont. I've been around guns since before I was born...
(My daddy had a shotgun hanging on the mantel of the fireplace for years before I was ever even conceived)
The only formal firearms training I have was during my stint as a boy scout... I used to hunt religiously before I found out what girls are really for and then I started chasing after them...
I've owned a lot of different firearms throughout the years and have dreamed about infinitely more...
I was never in the military, don't consider myself an expert marksman, and am always talking about guns...
We don't have much crime here because everyone for 50 miles knows that where I live, there's hillbillies with big guns...
We don't need a permit to carry concealed and there is no list of "assault weapons" that are banned in my State...
If you go to the local diners during deer season it's not uncommon to see more openly carried sidearms than a cowboy flick and more full gunracks than a big box dealer... I've carried a handgun for many years and it travels within state whenever I go somewhere. I've been told by State Troopers to town police that they prefer I keep it concealed because it scares the the pants off of tourists... I have posted here that I wouldn't hesitate using my handgun to defend myself or my family and friends, and I've taken a lot of Flak for it... about 4 or 5 years ago I posted my very first post here and here it is again:
posted 2004
Hey everyone,
I was told by a good friend to come here and post this message...
Quite a few years ago, myself and three friends went out for a day of pistol shooting. Here in Vermont, the gun laws are nearly non-existant and we have less violent crimes because of it. Few criminals are brave enough to invade your home when they all know we dial .357, not 911.
Anyways, we all thought nothing of walking into the local package store for some coffee, smokes, etc., reeking of gunpowder and armed to the teeth.
Each of us carried at least one revolver, and my good buddy Charlie had three pistols on him that day, which we all carried in varying states and degrees of; unconcealed, somewhat concealed, and even though Ben is a big guy, even his biceps can't fully conceal a Ruger .44 magnum in a shoulder holster... We're joking, mixing java with milk and sugar, greeting friends, when all of a sudden a gorgeous woman in a fur coat and covered in jewels is at the counter demanding in an obnoxiously thick Bronx accent that someone call the police because "Those men have guns!" was her direct quote as she pointed accusingly at me and my other friend, Rob.
The funny thing was, the guy behind the counter is a fellow sportsman by the name of Joe, who lifted his shirt tail to show the butt of his Colt .32 that he faithfully carries in an inside-the-pant-band holster.
"Yeah, so what's your point?" He asked her.
She freaked out!
God bless Lady Luck for her sense of timing and irony, but a police officer who's known me since I was twinkle in my daddy's eye, just happened to walk into the store at that moment.
"Officer, officer! Oh my God I'm glad you're here, those men over there are walking around with handguns, for the love of Peter, and that man behind the counter has one stuck in his pants, too!" she managed to spout out.
Without missing a beat, Officer Randall Johnson of the East Dover police department looked her right in the eye and said "Yeah, I have one too, what's your point?" After a round of laughter from more than just us, She indignantly asked: "Well, aren't you going to do something?"
To which he replied: "Ma'am, this is Vermont, they're not breaking any laws here, their guns are just as safe as mine is right here." And he patted his service revolver, which he's thankfully never had to draw in anger.
Then he addressed myself, Rob, and Joe when he said:
"Isn't that right, Gentlemen?"
They nodded in agreement but I couldn't keep my trap shut.
I stepped up next to her in woodland camo, Timberlands, and a Marine Corps T-shirt, a S&W .22 tucked in my waistband and in my best redneck backwoods drawl I said:
"Ma'am, we're just exercising our second amendment rights, same as you are exercising your first, ain't America beautiful?"
She left without another word and when the door closed, we all, and about ten other patrons just about wet ourselves with laughter.
I was born on September 11 1970...
I saw the spirirt of 76 freedom train with the real Liberty Bell.
I now live in Bennington, Vermont.
It is my Humble opinion that had I the chance to meet her again, I'd like to take her to the range and let her see what a great time can be had just plinking away at a paper target of bin Laden...
posted 2004
Nothing has changed...
I still openly share my sport/hobby/passion with as many people as I can, I still regularly carry a firearm, I'm still posting here, and I'd still waste some criminal puke in a hearbeat if he threatened my survival or my family and friends. Of course every situation is different and thankfully I don't live in an area where crime is rampant...
However, I have been on both ends of a firearm during what can only be termed as a potentially life threatening situation.
Once, a guy pointed a gun at me.
He thought it would be a cute joke to scare me as I came in through the door at a mutual friend's apartment. He jumped out from behind the door and pointed a pistol at me. I instantly grabbed the barrel and yanked the gun out of his hands and struck him with the butt of the pistol square on his forehead, knocking him to the floor. While cursing him out for even joking around with a firearm I checked the action only to find it was empty and so was the magazine. There was at least five witnesses...
Prior to 9/11/01 I was living in Bennington, VT. A guy was mad at me and decided to come pounding on my door one drunken night. I was upstairs and heard him yelling obscenities at my then pregnant wife. I came downstairs with my Kalashniclone and a fully-loaded bannana mag and told him to leave...
In his stupor he looks at me and the gun and says: "You're gonna need a bigger one than that!" I cocked one into the chamber, centered the bridge of his nose in my sight picture and then I told my wife to step behind me so she didn't get splattered with brains and told him again, with more sterness in my voice, to please leave before he got shot, which he promptly did. Three full days later a female officer from the Bennington PD shows up to tell me that I shouldn't point firearms at people. I calmly explained to her that he was trespassing, had assaulted my pregnant wife when he unlawfully entered into my house, was disturbing the peace, and making violent threats of bodilly harm. I pointed my gun at him and told him to leave and he did, therefore I didn't want to press charges. I was asked, not told, asked, that if the situation ever arose again that I should dial 911 immediately and let the police take care of it. To which I calmly responded: "It took you three days to get here for this one"
And, no, I've never spent a moment in cuffs unless it was with my wife
I guess what I'm saying is this:
I know I'm not John Rambo or James Bond.
I'm no Charles Bronson or Clint Eastwood.
I will never be so glorious as George Washington or Thomas Jefferson.
But I know that to keep and bear arms carries with it the highest of moral and ethical duty and responsibilty. I have continued the tradition of handing down to my children the rules of safe firearms handling and use.
I have gratefully experienced the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of sporting clays, the sheer fun of .22 plinking, the instant comraderie that happens when meeting someone for the first time and finding out they are a gunner, and the warm fuzzy sensation in the tip of my finger that comes from a long day at the range.
Besides, the last time I checked, the second amendment still applies to me, because you can bet the farm that I'll be an active member of that well regulated militia should the day ever come...
This country was founded on the basic premise that the citizens have the right to defend themselves. When did Americans stop believing in that?
respectfully submitted,
effengee
I've been berated for some foolish posts and will probably Pee somebody off with this one, but you should all know this:
I live in rural Vermont. I've been around guns since before I was born...
(My daddy had a shotgun hanging on the mantel of the fireplace for years before I was ever even conceived)
The only formal firearms training I have was during my stint as a boy scout... I used to hunt religiously before I found out what girls are really for and then I started chasing after them...
I've owned a lot of different firearms throughout the years and have dreamed about infinitely more...
I was never in the military, don't consider myself an expert marksman, and am always talking about guns...
We don't have much crime here because everyone for 50 miles knows that where I live, there's hillbillies with big guns...
We don't need a permit to carry concealed and there is no list of "assault weapons" that are banned in my State...
If you go to the local diners during deer season it's not uncommon to see more openly carried sidearms than a cowboy flick and more full gunracks than a big box dealer... I've carried a handgun for many years and it travels within state whenever I go somewhere. I've been told by State Troopers to town police that they prefer I keep it concealed because it scares the the pants off of tourists... I have posted here that I wouldn't hesitate using my handgun to defend myself or my family and friends, and I've taken a lot of Flak for it... about 4 or 5 years ago I posted my very first post here and here it is again:
posted 2004
Hey everyone,
I was told by a good friend to come here and post this message...
Quite a few years ago, myself and three friends went out for a day of pistol shooting. Here in Vermont, the gun laws are nearly non-existant and we have less violent crimes because of it. Few criminals are brave enough to invade your home when they all know we dial .357, not 911.
Anyways, we all thought nothing of walking into the local package store for some coffee, smokes, etc., reeking of gunpowder and armed to the teeth.
Each of us carried at least one revolver, and my good buddy Charlie had three pistols on him that day, which we all carried in varying states and degrees of; unconcealed, somewhat concealed, and even though Ben is a big guy, even his biceps can't fully conceal a Ruger .44 magnum in a shoulder holster... We're joking, mixing java with milk and sugar, greeting friends, when all of a sudden a gorgeous woman in a fur coat and covered in jewels is at the counter demanding in an obnoxiously thick Bronx accent that someone call the police because "Those men have guns!" was her direct quote as she pointed accusingly at me and my other friend, Rob.
The funny thing was, the guy behind the counter is a fellow sportsman by the name of Joe, who lifted his shirt tail to show the butt of his Colt .32 that he faithfully carries in an inside-the-pant-band holster.
"Yeah, so what's your point?" He asked her.
She freaked out!
God bless Lady Luck for her sense of timing and irony, but a police officer who's known me since I was twinkle in my daddy's eye, just happened to walk into the store at that moment.
"Officer, officer! Oh my God I'm glad you're here, those men over there are walking around with handguns, for the love of Peter, and that man behind the counter has one stuck in his pants, too!" she managed to spout out.
Without missing a beat, Officer Randall Johnson of the East Dover police department looked her right in the eye and said "Yeah, I have one too, what's your point?" After a round of laughter from more than just us, She indignantly asked: "Well, aren't you going to do something?"
To which he replied: "Ma'am, this is Vermont, they're not breaking any laws here, their guns are just as safe as mine is right here." And he patted his service revolver, which he's thankfully never had to draw in anger.
Then he addressed myself, Rob, and Joe when he said:
"Isn't that right, Gentlemen?"
They nodded in agreement but I couldn't keep my trap shut.
I stepped up next to her in woodland camo, Timberlands, and a Marine Corps T-shirt, a S&W .22 tucked in my waistband and in my best redneck backwoods drawl I said:
"Ma'am, we're just exercising our second amendment rights, same as you are exercising your first, ain't America beautiful?"
She left without another word and when the door closed, we all, and about ten other patrons just about wet ourselves with laughter.
I was born on September 11 1970...
I saw the spirirt of 76 freedom train with the real Liberty Bell.
I now live in Bennington, Vermont.
It is my Humble opinion that had I the chance to meet her again, I'd like to take her to the range and let her see what a great time can be had just plinking away at a paper target of bin Laden...
posted 2004
Nothing has changed...
I still openly share my sport/hobby/passion with as many people as I can, I still regularly carry a firearm, I'm still posting here, and I'd still waste some criminal puke in a hearbeat if he threatened my survival or my family and friends. Of course every situation is different and thankfully I don't live in an area where crime is rampant...
However, I have been on both ends of a firearm during what can only be termed as a potentially life threatening situation.
Once, a guy pointed a gun at me.
He thought it would be a cute joke to scare me as I came in through the door at a mutual friend's apartment. He jumped out from behind the door and pointed a pistol at me. I instantly grabbed the barrel and yanked the gun out of his hands and struck him with the butt of the pistol square on his forehead, knocking him to the floor. While cursing him out for even joking around with a firearm I checked the action only to find it was empty and so was the magazine. There was at least five witnesses...
Prior to 9/11/01 I was living in Bennington, VT. A guy was mad at me and decided to come pounding on my door one drunken night. I was upstairs and heard him yelling obscenities at my then pregnant wife. I came downstairs with my Kalashniclone and a fully-loaded bannana mag and told him to leave...
In his stupor he looks at me and the gun and says: "You're gonna need a bigger one than that!" I cocked one into the chamber, centered the bridge of his nose in my sight picture and then I told my wife to step behind me so she didn't get splattered with brains and told him again, with more sterness in my voice, to please leave before he got shot, which he promptly did. Three full days later a female officer from the Bennington PD shows up to tell me that I shouldn't point firearms at people. I calmly explained to her that he was trespassing, had assaulted my pregnant wife when he unlawfully entered into my house, was disturbing the peace, and making violent threats of bodilly harm. I pointed my gun at him and told him to leave and he did, therefore I didn't want to press charges. I was asked, not told, asked, that if the situation ever arose again that I should dial 911 immediately and let the police take care of it. To which I calmly responded: "It took you three days to get here for this one"
And, no, I've never spent a moment in cuffs unless it was with my wife
I guess what I'm saying is this:
I know I'm not John Rambo or James Bond.
I'm no Charles Bronson or Clint Eastwood.
I will never be so glorious as George Washington or Thomas Jefferson.
But I know that to keep and bear arms carries with it the highest of moral and ethical duty and responsibilty. I have continued the tradition of handing down to my children the rules of safe firearms handling and use.
I have gratefully experienced the thrill of the hunt, the challenge of sporting clays, the sheer fun of .22 plinking, the instant comraderie that happens when meeting someone for the first time and finding out they are a gunner, and the warm fuzzy sensation in the tip of my finger that comes from a long day at the range.
Besides, the last time I checked, the second amendment still applies to me, because you can bet the farm that I'll be an active member of that well regulated militia should the day ever come...
This country was founded on the basic premise that the citizens have the right to defend themselves. When did Americans stop believing in that?
respectfully submitted,
effengee
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