Moore's Law vs. The .45-70 Contender

Fucking computers. I'm working on one right now. I have been working on it for the last two days. Piece of shit. I just want to take it to a gravel pit and shoot it with my .45-70. Too bad I'm at work.

If you want to really feel like you've shot a gun, try shooting my .45-70 Contender handgun. Half again as powerful as the mighty .44 magnum (got one of them as well), it will just about knock you on your ass when you pull the trigger. I actually had to gain weight in order to be able to fire it and not end up in the next county. It does have a muzzle break which, for you liberals, is a series of holes bored through the business end of the barrel to help tame the muzzle lift when you fire it. So it recoils directly backwards. It's like getting kicked in the hand by a pissed off mule on the juice.

Perhaps the best part of the .45-70 Contender experience is the site and sound. So loud that, even wearing hearing protection, it makes your ears ring more than going to a Jupiter 2 concert. Plus when you shoot it, a big ass flame erupts out the barrel and muzzle break holes. More than enough to scare any game to death in case you miss. And anything you hit with a .45-70 is going to be fucked up. Big time. It will split an engine block, it will vaporize a squirrel. It slings some seriously large pieces of lead at very high speeds. It makes me want to sling some yogurt just thinking about it.

So I'm here at work fantasizing about shooting computers (I'm also fantasizing about Hillary Swank in a little French maid's outfit but that's for another blog entirely). Sometimes it unnerves me to think that I'm the sole contact for any problems that might arise from any of about two thousand work stations or several hundred servers spread over a dozen countries. Shit. I need a drink.

Speaking of drinks, my nephew The Cod God is in the hospital. I think he is getting his lithium levels adjusted or his liver replaced or something. Anyway, I send him my best.