The Worst Mortar Team Ever

Apparently, I don't stand by the things I drunkenly slur into my cell phone. Among them are telling Julie Collins that I hate her for not waiting by her phone for my call at 3:23 in the morning (despite the actual time being 2:45), claiming I'll go on a post strike if there's no comments, and calling Jacklyn a bitch. You know, I do stand by that last one. How dare she not adore me! I'm friggin' adoreable.

All this scarcely addresses the main topic of this post. (Side bar, after reading the Hitchhiker's Guide Books, then immeadiately afterward listening to the entire Radio Play I've picked up some subtle English speech mannerisms. I just happened to think that sentence needed 3 more sentences' explanation.) The topic? Potato Gunnery. I've mentioned it alot on the blog, but you've yet to see the finished product (except for one or two of you). Well, I can't dissapoint my readers for long, unless you're expecting maturity, full frontal nudity, or debate over the serious issues of the day.

With a pantload of further adieu, here are two, somewhat small and grainy pictures of my master piece of vegetable acceleration. Technically, I don't just shoot vegetables out of it, as you can see from the partially finished PVC Rockets pictured below. In the end I'll have heated the...end (ironic word choice) of the pipes with hot vegetable oil to make them maleable and, with the help of a metal funnel and a section of pipe left over from my barrel, flare them out to the correct diameter. This way they fit tightly against the inside of the barrel, and hence use the air better when fired. There, I'd reckon that's enough adieu.

"Death Au Gratin" and a portion of my arsenal.

It's actually just 11 inches, nothing to be ashamed of. But I'm not here to decieve the masses.

Quick story before I wrap this post up. I was showing my dad a glowing round I had made, which basically amounted to a battery powered glowstick with electrical tape and paper towels to expand it to the width of the barrel. I had done one test shot and it worked great. Well, the next one...not so much. I juiced the PSI in the chamber to get it really high in the air (to the point that it becomes hard to see). Dad warned me to move forward so it didn't have a chance to come back and hit the truck. I (over) self assuredly explained that it hasn't ever done that.

Guess what happened. I, did in fact, shoot it so high it became very small and hard to see. But what we could make out was the fact that at that height a strong wind blew it back over my head...way back. In fact it got blown over my house toward the house of a somewhat worrisome lone nut type person. It would be ok if it was just toward his house. But naturally it was a fall of 400ish feet onto the roof of this semi-creepy guy. We didn't find that out until the morning. For a good half hour we searched the yard with flashlights ablaze trying to find this object, that should be glowing. When we finally saw it in the morning it was more or less the baseball that fell into The Beast's yard. It was on the roof of his house, and what's more right in front of his door. So I did the manly thing...waited until he wasn't there, went over and courtesy knocked his front door, then used a tree trimmer to get the thing back.

So the potato gun has become an obsession. I'm working on a backpack of compressed air so I'm completely mobile. I have a question for you kids:

What would you like to see me

1. Shoot out of the gun.
2. Shoot the gun at.