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Category: guns

The Real Reason Amazon’s Drone Delivery Service Isn’t Gonna Fly

The Real Reason Amazon’s Drone Delivery Service Isn’t Gonna Fly

So I hear Amazon doesn’t want to limit themselves to having the UPS driver throw your packages over the fence and drive away like a teenager with dad’s car anymore; they want to have a drone delivery service. I think I’ve spotted a problem in their cunning plan.

Well, not a problem for us. I mean I’ve spotted a problem for them. To paraphrase maybe the ultimate Borderline Sociopathic Boy, Winston Churchill:

We shall fight in the cul-de-sacs, we shall fight near the retention ponds and the drainage ditches near the stripmall, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our neighborhoods from the encroachments of hipsters getting Amazon iPhone drone deliveries, whatever the cost — to Amazon, I mean — may be. We shall fight them with slingshots, BB guns, and the occasional shotty if we live outside the city limits and no one’s looking; we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.

Oh, and by the by, lads, watch the video — if you do masculine things, pretty girls show up and do them with you. It’s like a law.

(Thanks to Jonathan Frost-Johnson for sending that one along) 

I’m Pretty Sure I Can Close Up Shop Now

I’m Pretty Sure I Can Close Up Shop Now


The Borderline Sociopathic Blog For Boys has an ethos. Well, it would have an ethos if we knew what an ethos is, but we used to put comic books inside our textbooks and nap a bit after lunch back in our school days, so we’re flying blind here.

So, an ethos might be a floor wax, or it might be a dessert topping; I don’t know. But if you don’t mind, I’m going to watch the video with the boobs and guns and a bit of bumbie one more time. There’s got to be something wrong with it, and I’m going to find it no matter how many times I have to watch it.

It’s A Bachelor Party? Gee, I Hope There Wasn’t A Stripper In The Jetta

It’s A Bachelor Party? Gee, I Hope There Wasn’t A Stripper In The Jetta


(A little coarse language)

Ah, farm country. You can stuff 84 times the manufacturer’s recommended maximum charge of tannerite into your buddy’s old beater and let rip. It’s like Hunter S. Thompson is your wedding planner.

No livestock were discommoded by this explosion. What happens to the livestock when all the beer has been consumed is none of anyone’s business. What happens in Podunk, stays in Podunk.