Tony 2 Guns's blog: "Bikers"

My friends are fond of saying that my last words on this earth will be something akin to, "hey y'all, hold my beer and watch this!" Well, I have outdone myself once again. No doubt you will see this true story chronicled in a LifeTime movie in the near future. Here goes: Last weekend I spied something at Larry's Pistol and Pawn that tickled my fancy. (Note: Keep in mind that my fancy" is easily tickled. I had gone into the Star Market to pick up some milk yesterday and I bought a super-ball in the checkout line -- 50 cents. What a bargain! It tickled my fancy--still does. That thing bounces soooooo high, and it has provided me with hours of entertainment. It just doesn't get any better than that, now does it?). I'm so easily distracted. That dang super-ball is so much fun. So what were we talking about? Oh yeah, I bought something really cool at Larry's Pistol and Pawn last Saturday. The occasion was my 44th birthday and I was looking for a little something extra cool. What I came across was a 100,000 volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer gun with a clip. For those of you who are not familiar with this product, it is a less-than-lethal stun gun with two metal prongs designed to incapacitate an assailant with a shock of high-voltage, low amperage electricity while you flee to safety. The effects are supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, but allowing you adequate time to retreat to safety. You simply jab the prongs into your 250 lb. tattooed assailant, push the button, and it will render him a slobbering, goggle-eyed, muscle-twitching, whimpering, pencil-neck geek. If you've never seen one of these things in action, then you're truly missing out--way too cool! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two triple-a batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was so disappointed. Upon reading the directions (we don't need no stinkin' directions), I found much to my chagrin that this particular model would not create an arc between the prongs. How disappointing! I do love fire for effect. I learned that if I pushed the button, however, and pressed it against a metal surface that I'd get the blue arch of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs that I was so looking forward to. I did so. Awesome!!! Sparks, a blue arch of electricity, and a loud pop!!! Yipeeeeee . . . I'm easily amused. 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, etc., etc. There I sat in my recliner, my dog Molly looking on intently (trusting little soul), reading the directions (that would be me, not Molly), and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood target. I must admit I thought about zapping Molly for a fraction of a second and thought better of it. She is such a sweet doggy, after all. But, if I was going to use this thing to protect myself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong? Was I wrong to think that? Seemed reasonable to me at the time. 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, Tazer in the other. 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 loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. 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 bloody way!" Bloody way--trust me, but I'm getting ahead of myself. What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. Those of you who know me well have got a pretty good idea of what followed. I'm sitting there alone, Molly looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, "don't do it Daddy". Reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny lil' ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad (sound, rational thinking under the circumstances, wouldn't you agree?). I decided to give myself a one-second burst just for the hell of it. (Note: You know, a bad decision is like hindsight--always twenty-twenty. It is so obvious that it was a bad decision after the fact, even though it seemed so right at the time. Don't ya hate that?) I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and… Holy F**king Chit! DAMN!!! I'm pretty sure that Jessie Ventura ran in through the front door, picked me up out of that recliner, then body slammed me on the carpet over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position. Molly was standing over me making whimpering sounds I had never heard before, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking to herself, "do it again Daddy, do it again!" (Note: If you ever feel compelled to mug yourself with a Tazer, one note of caution. There is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself. You're not going to let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. Then, if you're lucky, you won't dislodge one of the prongs 1/4" deep in your thigh like yours truly.) SON-OF-A-BIAAATCH that hurt! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at this point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. How did they get there??? My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, as my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. an ounce or two, I'm pretty sure. By the way, has anyone seen my testicles? I think they ran away. I'm offering a reward. They're round, rather large, kinda hairy, and handsome if I must say so myself. Miss 'em . . . sure would like to get 'em back. Yours Truly, Joker

An old married couple no sooner hit the pillows when the old man passes gas and says, "Seven Points." His wife rolls over and says, "What in the world was that?" The old man replied, "It's fart football." A few minutes later his wife lets one go and says, "Touchdown, tie score." After about five minutes the old man lets another one go and says, "Aha. I'm ahead 14 to 7" Not to be outdone the wife rips out another one and says, "Touchdown, tie score." Five seconds go by and she lets out a little squeaker and says, "Field goal, I lead 17 to 14." Now the pressure is on the old man. He refuses to get beaten by a woman, so he strains real hard. Since defeat is totally unacceptable, he gives it everything he's got, and accidentally shits in the bed. The wife says, "What the hell was that?" The old man says, "Half time, switch sides

ESTATE PLANNING 101 When Dan found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening he went to a singles bar where he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away. 'I may look like just an ordinary man,' he said as he walked up to her, 'but in just a week or two, my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 mill ion dollars.' Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening and, three days later, she became his stepmother.

Biker Poem THERE ARE PEOPLE THAT THINK BIKERS ARE MEAN. SOME DRESS IN LEATHER AND OTHERS IN JEANS. YOU DON'T LIKE OUR PATCHES OR THE CLOTHES THAT WE WEAR. YOU HATE OUR BANDANNAS AND HATE OUR LONG HAIR. YOU DON'T LIKE OUR SCOOTERS AND OUR LOUD NOISY PIPES. YOU THINK WE'RE NOT LOYAL TO THE STARS AND THE STRIPES. YOU DON'T LIKE OUR PATCHES THAT ARE WORN ON OUR VESTS. YOU THINK WE'RE SO DIFFERENT FROM ALL THE REST. BUT THE TRUTH IS MISTER, WE'RE KIND OF ALIKE. YOU DRIVE A CAR AND I DRIVE A BIKE. YOU HAVE NO TATOOS PAINTED ON YOUR ARM BUT WE FOUGHT SIDE BY SIDE OVER IN "NAM". SO THE NEXT TIME YOUR CHILDREN ARE RUNNING AROUND, ENJOYING THEIR FREEDOM AND THE FUN THAT THEY'VE FOUND. REMEMBER US BIKERS AND ALL THAT WE DO. WE FEED OUR LOST VETERANS, WE'RE RED, WHITE AND BLUE. WE BRING TOYS FOR TOTS, JUST TO SEE A SMILE. BY RIDING OUR BIKES FOR MILES AND MILES. YOU SEE US BIKERS HAVE NEVER FORGOT, OUR HOMELESS VETERANS AND LESS FORTUNATE TOTS. WE ARE LOYAL TO OUR CLUBS AND TRUE TO OUR BRO'S. WE WILL ALWAYS WEAR BLACK FROM OUR HEADS TO OUR TOES. SOCIETY ONCE SAID THAT LONG HAIR WAS FOR FAGS. BUT YOU'LL NEVER SEE A BIKER BURNING A FLAG. NOW TATTOOS AND LEATHER, YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. STANDS FOR FREE INDEPENDENCE THAT US BIKERS DEMAND. OUR LONG HAIR AND PATCHES WITH LOUD PIPES, IS A TRIBUTE TO OUR FREEDOM, THE STARS AND THE STRIPES. SO BEFORE YOU MAKE UP YOUR MIND ON JUST WHAT I MIGHT BE. TAKE A LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND WHAT DO YOU SEE? THE MAN THAT YOU SEE THAT IS STARING RIGHT BACK. IS NOT TOO MUCH DIFERENT FROM THE BIKER IN BLACK. RIDE SAFE, RIDE FREE!! AUTHOR UNKNOWN

The journey of a man When I was 14, I hoped that one day I would have a girlfriend. When I was 16 I got a girlfriend, but there was no passion, so I decided I needed a passionate girl with a zest for life. In college I dated a passionate girl, but she was too emotional. Everything was an emergency; she was a drama queen, cried all the time and threatened suicide. So I decided I needed a girl with stability. When I was 25 I found a very stable girl but she was boring. She was totally predictable and never got excited about anything. Life became so dull, that I decided that I needed a girl with some excitement. When I was 28 I found an exciting girl, but I couldn't keep up with her. She rushed from one thing to another, never settling on anything. She did mad impetuous things and made me miserable as often as happy. She was great fun initially and very energetic, but directionless. So I decided to find a girl with some real ambition. When I turned 31, I found a smart ambitious girl with her feet planted firmly on the ground and married her. She was so ambitious that she divorced me and took  everything I owned. I am now older and wiser, and am looking for a girl with big tits.

The Last Biker The old ones stand out now, their numbers dwindling down. They're sad loss to the American scene, these individualists with the worn down clothes, saddles and faces. You can still see them sometimes, the real ones, some in packs, not as large as a while ago, sometimes alone. The alone one is the best. One who's been there a long time, staying in the life he loves, never giving into a system that sucks you up like a vortex if you slip just one foot into it. He's got his connections - a few like him, that care for and protect each other. Hanging onto the only unique lifestyle left, like old dinosaurs, their faces are leathered and rough by forty, but their eyes still sharp and knowing. Some are gray in the beards and braids, some are limp in their step and some pain in the kidneys. Still they know that no other life is life, but merely a dreary journey into everyone else's monotony. He looks at the new ones, and then turns away, knowing they will never know of life on the road and of the women who can take it. Wild, loving women who'll hang in with them, because they love it too. Women with wild hearts and loyal souls, that's what's needed here. The new ones are shiny and young and a bit too clean. They're born into a system that has an iron grip now. The new one's don't seem to know and couldn't take "the life". I think it's a mystery, even to the old ones, why this life is theirs, but it is, and it's the only one. When the last biker falls, like the dinosaurs, the sun will go down on a breed of heart-of-gold, tough as nails, free of spirited men, who even at their worst, love what's theirs and protect it. In a worldwide system that is making all people as alike as manufactured dolls, the earth will be a duller place...when the last biker falls.