Trash: Hunted to the Brink of Extinction Jason Treece
Society seems to dictate that individuals living in "civilized society" dispose of things by throwing them in the trash and then allow the city to deal with the unpleasant task of "making it go away". I have found, however, that there exists a positive link between dopamine receptors in the brain (the pleasure "brain chemical" if you will), guns, and random trash that would otherwise be simply thrown away. Doubt me if you will, but these three things go together better than Jack Daniels, ice, and Coke.
Although I will leave the actual legal and philosophical arguments regarding the private ownership and use of firearms to my boy Matt, I will surmise by saying guns are rad. Yes, shooting firearms is fun, just like rollercoasters, video games, and partying in the club with a bottle full of bub. There is something about sending an aerodynamic piece of metal toward a target of your choice (providing common-sense rules of safety are followed) that simply satisfies like nothing else. Add to this wonderful blend of speed, noise, smell, and competition the odd piece of trash and guess what? Destroying things just became a way to spend an otherwise unproductive (now destructive) Saturday afternoon.
Take, for example, last weekend. I got together with some friends, loaded up the truck with a surprising variety of weaponry and proceeded to collect as much random shit as possible. Our end result was a car bumper, aluminum wheel, numerous beverage cans, a teakettle, a snow globe, two seatbelt devices, and an eclectic blend of CDs, water bottles, and various other crap.
Now, before I continue I must stress that it is important to clean up after onesself when destroying things and to choose a location in which the noise and projectiles have not the slightest chance of damaging private property or of hurting anyone. So, we drove out to a remote mining pit and used some of the service roads to find a suitable hillside to use as our backstop.
Now, before I continue I must stress that it is important to clean up after onesself when destroying things and to choose a location in which the noise and projectiles have not the slightest chance of damaging private property or of hurting anyone. So, we drove out to a remote mining pit and used some of the service roads to find a suitable hillside to use as our backstop.
A few leisurely hours and several hundred rounds later, the car bumper had succumbed to the ravages of 12-guage and 9mm savagery and was little more than a ragged piece of plastic. The once-elegant aluminum wheel had felt the wrath of several high-powered rifles with devastating and highly amusing consequences. The rest of the crap we blew apart served to satiate a much needed stress relief from the rigors of higher education, work, and of course life.
Why spend all this time and effort just to blow stuff apart? Why can't you just be at peace with yourself and the world around you? Certainly other activities could be much more productive as far as enriching ones life? Well, you would be right of course. However, pissing liberals off, enjoying my Second Amendment right, having fun with friends, and breaking shit that would otherwise serve no purpose for amusement are just some of the reasons why shooting at things other than animals and paper targets is so much fun. Undeniably unproductive and arguably a sign of repressed aggression, reducing the fruits of sweatshop labor to piles of unrecognizable rubble through projectile impact is perhaps the best way to blow off a little steam and enjoy time with friends.
