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On The Fence

When we bought the house, we had a fence installed.  Factors such as the pipeline and the honeysuckle hedgerow prevented a full circumference of the lot, much to our dismay (see any post where I talk about a certain neighbor).  But, we at least needed a corral for the whippets, since their potty runs can measure into the quarter-hours.

And so, we ended up with a nice little 4-foot gothic picket fence.  The quality of the install was, shall we say, mediocre, however; and the railing spacing varied from 4 to 8+ inches.  Consequently, the little whippet quickly figured out that the fence was a mere suggestion–a suggestion which became less and less considered throughout the summer months.  So when I let her out, she would chase a squirrel, immediately slip through the fence, then when she decided to wander back, mysteriously couldn’t figure out how to slip back in, resulting in me having to go get her.

This culminated in a recent day in which I was working at home, had joined a conference call, then had to let the little whippet out (because she always waits until I’m busy to tell me).  I quickly became occupied with work and forgot about her…until The Heckler (The Village Elder’s wife), returned the dog to the front door.  True to her name, she then offered select commentary on my negligence, ultimately telling the rest of the village an embellished story about how I was mindlessly engaged with something unimportant and consequently unobservant to the world around me.

It was the final push I needed to proceed with the project I had already considered: attaching wire to the fence, thereby sealing in any canines wishing to turn feral.  Thus, as part of the shop light project, I acquired 150 feet of fencing wire.

Armed with staple gun, wire clips, fencing pliers, gloves, tape measure, and determination; I got to work.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t so easy as stretching the wire for the entire run.  Since my goal was to also make it aesthetically-pleasing, the wire couldn’t be simply attached to the posts, 4 inches away from the pickets.  Nor could the wire be attached to the outside.  This meant that I needed cut-to-measure individual segments.  And, since the segments weren’t always rectangular, but various forms of parallelograms, I often had to cut to fit while in the process of stapling.  In short–it was incredibly time-consuming and physically painful.  Between squeezing wire clips and the staple gun, my hands and forearms got a good workout.

I also greatly under-estimated the time required.  My 2-hour prediction turned into 6.  And it was the last hot day of the year too.  But my stubbornness was rewarded and it looks quite nice, or as nice as fencing wire can look anyway.

I feel I need some sheep in there with this setup.  And then I wouldn’t have to mow inside the fence!  Bonus!

And the best part was when I let the little whippet outside to test it.  She quickly returned, and after being let back inside, laid down in her bed and started me down with indignation and betrayal.

–Simon

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Winterizing

As they like to say in Game of Thrones: “The winter is coming.”  Or…some damn thing to that effect.  I dunno–I don’t watch that show.

But yeah, the winter is indeed coming.  I had grown fond of some plants, and those plants are not fond of freezing temperatures.  What was I to do?  Why, take them inside of course.

Some of these plants will no doubt be fine hibernating in the dark basement.  Other plants were never meant to go dormant, or at least I know that they won’t appreciate sitting in a dark basement.  But from experience, I know most plants generally appreciate my grow light, or at least begrudgingly accept it, but…there wasn’t room for these large and established plants which I wanted to overwinter.  Therefore, this necessitated…a project!

The existing grow light setup has two tiers.  But the basement is deep and so there’s more than enough room for an additional tier–a large tier into which I can place tall plants.  I would therefore leverage the existing frame and improvise a shelf, then mount a shop light from the ceiling above it.  All things considered, it was a conceptually simple project.  First though, I had all the former owner’s crap to contend with.

An old trick with which I was familiar–using jars to hold nails, attached by the lids to the ceiling.  Or in this case, attached to a 2X4 which was in turn attached to the ceiling.  I grabbed a hammer and stood on a chair, intent on prying the board down.  I placed a steadying hand on the board, and it immediately detached, scaring the crap out of me as I struggled to keep it from crashing to the concrete floor.  I sure was glad that I got around to removing it before it fell on its own.  Sheesh.

The existing shop light was ancient and non-functional.  It hung from fencing staples pounded into the joists.  They should have been pounded in, rather, but instead they were only slightly pounded in.  A gentle nudge with a hammer and a staple immediately fell out, causing the deceivingly heavy light to swing and detach the other staple, scaring the crap out of me as I struggled to keep it from crashing to the concrete floor.  Attentive readers will notice a theme here, but fortunately for me and my basement, I didn’t need to rip anything else down.  Then it was off to my favorite store.

At Lowe’s I grabbed a utility plug, a metal junction box, wire caps, appropriately-rated indoor wire, and a reasonably-priced shop light: $38 for a 4-bulb lamp.  My intent was to wire the light so I could plug it into the power strip which served the other grow lights, because the strip was on a plug timer.  I smugly reviewed the items I purchased, satisfied with my recently-discovered self-confidence in handyman residential electrical work, then realized the shop light was pre-wired for an outlet and I didn’t need all that other stuff.  Almost disappointed at having been saved the trouble, I put it all back.

As I was doing so, an older lady asked me for help in identifying which type of outlet splitter she would need for adding additional plugs to a single outlet.  Ah ha!  My self-confidence was exuding now.  I actually looked like I knew what I was doing!  With self-confidence, I confidently identified something that would suit her needs, then strode confidently back to my cart.  Confidence!

[I also purchased fencing wire, so there’s a teaser for an exciting future post about fencing!]

Back home, I strung recycled chain from the old shop light between joists.  My intent was to hang the new light between the joists, thus maximizing head space.  I also properly secured it with wood screws–something a little more confidence-inspiring than staples.

It was only when I brought plants downstairs that I considered in earnest their weight, and the fact that the aluminum frame was not designed to bear it from above.  I searched in vain for a load limit, then decided to simply reinforce the cross beams with boards.  The arches felt very robust, and I didn’t think they’d collapse.  If it starts to show signs of strain then I’ll have to build something else, but I think it’ll hold.

That’s the chocolate habanero and bay plant up there

I later placed a standing fan next to the setup.  Hopefully, I’ll be able to overwinter these.  I enjoy being able to garden year-round.

It’s also really hard to search for articles on indoor gardening without being redirected to questionable sites, like “bigdanthestoner.com” or “iliketosmokeatonofweed.net”.  I supposed if the DEA shows up, I’ll have a funny story to write about.

–Simon

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Reddit: Sexism

I’ve always had an interest in human behavior.  Its study fits somewhere between hard science and social science, and that appeals to both sides of the brain.  And as a bonus, I don’t have to go far to make observations.

Of particular interest to me is the ongoing social conflict between the sexes.

My school teachers were almost entirely comprised of women, especially during my earlier education.  I concluded that women were simply more interested in this type of employment, but have since discovered that to be a fallacy.  I’ve reviewed a number of studies on the matter, and they all distill down to a generalized fear of sexual assault and a belief that women are more nurturing.  Somewhere along the line, we as a society concluded a priori that all men have the predilection for rape, and of abandoning children.  I guess we can thank Generation-X for that?

Then there was my older sister who, through some combination of this scholastic indoctrination and personal experience, seemed to seethe with dislike for her male counterparts.  For whatever reason (probably something as simple as sibling discord), I was the regular victim of her constant monologues expounding upon sexist injustices and how I was part of the problem.

Now, in the workforce, I’m constantly exposed to pro-women sponsored committees and articles about women’s accomplishments on the internal site.  The local news takes time to interject professional annotations about “girl power” to otherwise gender-neutral stories.  I’ve seen the rise of several women-targeting television networks, and even Netflix shows a growing catalog of documentaries about famous women and women’s struggles.

In response to this, the media providers thought to target men, but rather than doing so in a way that philosophically addresses our identity, it shamelessly capitalized upon it, and we were given things like SpikeTV, Maxim magazine, and Askmen.com–in their own right sexist (and often false) assumptions on male interests.

So I wondered: why does this disconnect not simply persist, but continue to grow?

Obviously, it would have been a bad idea to approach people at random and ask their thoughts.  Even if the response had been positive, it’s unlikely to have also been truthful, and since the majority of my extra-familial conversations involve coworkers, I didn’t relish the thought of explaining academic research to a humorless Human Resources representative.

What I needed was a group discussion, free from judgment; and that combination could only exist within anonymity.  So I went somewhere I had never in my life gone before: Reddit (shudder).  I found two subreddits: /askmen and /askwomen–assuming their inherent duality would represent equal sides of an argument.  I dug around in the archives and read some specific discussions, then simply resorted to passively reading each day’s posts for a few weeks.  Eventually, I accumulated enough information that I was able to identify a few consistent and high-impact topics.  I will summarize them and offer my thoughts:

  • Men and women both have concerns regarding public education’s entire staff being female.  I was not alone in this sentiment, and apparently this childhood experience continues to haunt men into adulthood.  Anecdotally, many male teachers complained about the entrenched feminism and its hostility towards allowing men equal footing in early elementary school classes.  The issue has grown well beyond self-selection–there are plenty of men wanting to teach at these levels, and they’re universally complaining about being actively excluded from doing so.  Of course, a complaint itself does not indicate wrongdoing, but the prevalence of the complaint alone indicates that somewhere, there is a problem.
  • Equality in the workplace was a mixed bag.  Women complained more about sexism in small companies and with specific bad bosses, but as a whole with larger companies–sexism was more of a varying perception.  It would appear that companies which have large employee bases are more likely to see employees simply as resources–and while impersonal, serves to benefit the feminist cause in that diversity is achieved simply through finding enough qualified employees.  Economics have rendered sexism non-viable.  As for whether or not men and women receive equal wages, well, complaints again centered on small companies.  Since much of that is self-reported, and we don’t know the qualifications of every person surveyed, and organizations which attempt to aggregate this data aren’t honestly sharing how they got it, this statistic is simply going to remain unreliable and twisted for the benefit of whichever side of the argument is using it.
  • Men are naturally concerned with being attractive to women.  The subreddit’s existence is testament to a willingness to set aside pride and ask an online community of women for advice and criticisms.  Women in turn are more than happy to share their thoughts.  Of interest here is that these women would later complain about specific male tendencies, despite having previously told men that they find these tendencies attractive.  Is that intentional deception?  Normally I would doubt that conclusion…except the women who were giving this misleading information were the same usernames.  I have no idea what this indicates.  By contrast, women have an oft-misconstrued perception of what men find attractive in women (for this I can personally vouch), but the women here were reluctant to ask for clarification, and when men volunteered the information unsolicited, the responses were not positive.  So it would appear that men want to know what women like and women won’t tell them anything reliable; and women presume to know what men like but they’re often incorrect, yet don’t want to hear attempts to provide accurate information.  I admit I don’t understand that thought process, so I’m not going to attempt to offer an explanation.
  • Apparently women walk around in fear of being attacked.  I had figured this was a general concern, but not such a ubiquitous one.  The myriad of posts on this topic are rife with suggestion on how men can avoid appearing like they’re constantly wrestling back some innate urge to inflict mass violence upon women.  I must say, the urge to rape and kill women has never taken a foothold in my subconscious.  Of course I understand that such violence does exist, but after the amount of lecturing I received during my schooling about remembering to not rape (as if I needed reminding), maybe it’s only the constant discussion that keeps the fear omnipresent.  Even in college they lectured me, being required to take an orientation class in which they had thespians recreating a sexual assault scenario and asking the class what was wrong about it.  We’ve all been told not to rape so much that as a society we’re starting to believe that all men are rapists unless constantly reminded to not.  Drawing a correlation that because some men are violent, all men have the capacity for it, is a flawed form of inductive reasoning, in itself sexist, and the type of logic for which is the very source of all forms of bigotry.  These discussions were lengthy and very emotionally-charged.  I didn’t participate, but I admit that I lost my objectivity for a time.
  • Dating etiquette.  Who pays?  Who asks who out?  What qualifies as a date?  This is where I found out that Americans are way different in this arena from Europeans.  The latter has adopted a more direct approach, having enough sense to admit that economics are still a major factor in matters of the heart.  We Americans, however, hold on to outdated courtship models while still trying to be progressive and sexually liberated.  The result is that no one here agreed on anything, while Europeans have much more clearly defined protocols.  Seriously, the arguments went on and on.  I read pages and pages of a single thread solely discussing whether or not it was appropriate to open a door for a woman.  Yikes.

Conclusion

These were, as they say, the trending topics.  I can’t say how well some online discussion boards represent the population, but it’s about as close as I can get to a large sample size.  That, and it was all the energy I had to endure it.

I posit that, as a society, our outdated mating rituals may be the cause.  In earlier times, a woman’s biological role in the reproduction process forced her into fulfilling certain expectations, and while valid and necessary at the time for simple species survival, fails to transfer well into modern circumstances.  Fear of change prevents meaningful adaptation, which creates mutual contempt towards that few, which then grows to encompass entire demographics; all the while the human drive for companionship and sex is channeled into weapons: men who harass women into submission, and women who sexually manipulate men for personal gain.

Maybe I can look back on this post years from now, and feel happy with what we’ve achieved since…or…sad.  Or maybe we’ll just end up killing ourselves instead.

–Simon

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(3) Bargain

17:00 arrived and Juid donned his finest evening attire. What that translated to was: whatever garment held the least amount of that familiar body odor/chemical degreaser combination. And in Juid’s case, that meant a folded jumpsuit he never wore because he got asbestos in it once and it itched ever since. Chronic itching caused anxiety, but the alternative would be immediate rejection due to woman’s hypersensitive olfactories. So he used it for precisely these occasions, rare though they may be. And it didn’t look bad, just—informal. But that was to be expected. Only upper management had formal wear, and there were no new sources so even those would be lost to time eventually. Besides, with the bar being set so low, no one else going to the event would be dressed any better.

But there was another problem that weighed on Juid’s mind, one much greater than a jumpsuit. Being so outnumbered, the women were notoriously choosy. But unknown to Juid, however, was that the competition created a bigger problem: men giving other men advice on women, who possessed no incentive to give good advice even if they had any to offer. So Juid was perpetually armed with an arsenal of painfully cringe-worthy tactics. Juid rehearsed some of these lines to himself as he strode to Lower Commons.

“A woman such as yourself deserves a hard-working man.” No, that only played into a woman’s entitlement. Bring them down a bit. “A woman needs to choose before she becomes too old. Let’s discuss my credentials.” That might be too direct the lead with, albeit the truthful goal. Perhaps he should appeal to a woman’s inherent narcissism. “Beauty befits beauty. A woman of your grace deserves equal male perfection.” Juid flexed his bicep, feeling the working man’s bulge tighten against the synthetic fibers of his suit. He let out a manly grunt whilst doing so for self-validation, drawing curious gazes from passersby. These were valid statements, in his mind. A woman wanted a man who was properly ambitious, physically attractive, and who fell into an acceptable tier of economic viability. But the women liked to play games, and Juid would need to be coy with his advances. They wanted to be pursued relentlessly by a man who didn’t appear desperate.

Juid reached Lower Commons and presented his identification to the attendant. After all, attendance was restricted, otherwise using the events as incentive would be pointless. And because it was so important to maintain the effectiveness of these non-material rewards, the attendant took an agonizingly lengthy review of Juid’s credentials. While he waited, Juid looked past the attendant. The party was just getting started, as Juid had learned to arrive exactly when the events began. He wanted first contact with the women, as all did, and the entry queue invariably grew to occupy the entire hall as newcomers arrived, and those not invited timed their own arrival in an attempt to blend into the crowd to gain entry. As he stared, a woman walked past his field of view, and in that instant, Juid’s parasympathetic systems jolted with primitive elation and anxiety. She wore evening wear—a dress even—and though it possessed no sequins or rhinestones, it managed to achieve glamor through the use of polished aluminum beads. Juid’s hands twitched slightly with the testosterone-induced animal urge to attack.

“You may enter.”

“Mmm?” Juid missed his cue, then recovered. “Oh!” He immediately stepped past the attendant and uncouthly powerwalked in the direction the woman had gone. As he searched, he rehearsed his lines. “Hello, woman. I would like to discuss…things. What economic station do you desire? Would you care to see a demonstration in virility?” He spotted the woman, seated at the bar. Excited, he quickened his pace and stumbled clumsily into the chairs next to her. Startled, she abruptly turned to face him. Her eyes were icy and indifferent, save the tinge of surprise. “Hello woman!” Juid blurted, much too loud.

She stared but said nothing, so Juid mistook the silence as a prompt for more. “It’s nice to see you. You look nice.” A smooth recovery with a general compliment. Juid tried not to stare. He stared.

“Thank you”, she responded. She turned back to her drink. She was, after all, obligated to converse, having been assigned to the task by upper management. To her, this was part of her job and she was not terribly engaged with it. Still, the mere feminine quality of her voice tugged at Juid’s lower functions.

“Are you actively pursuing a spouse?” Juid winced, not because he recognized his words were worthy of the wince, but because he knew he was playing his cards too soon.

“The search never ends.” Her response was the general requirement—to show availability and remain noncommittal.

So Juid responded in kind. “I’m a Hazardous Environment Maintenance Technician.” He used his full title, hoping to add the allure of danger. Women were known to be attracted to risk, not to mention the increased compensation that came with such a position. Juid did, after all, live a middle class lifestyle.

“Yes, that was my understanding.” Of course it was. This event was being hosted specifically for the HEM team. Still, Juid was the ranking unit member, so he could elaborate.

“I led this morning’s repair work. There was a local hull breach from a foreign object. I can tell you about it if you like.” Maybe she would be interested in hearing about Juid’s competent work.

“Certainly. Go on.” She turned back to engage him, momentarily thankful that he was distracted with his work and not her. From her perspective, this was a win. Perhaps she could keep the conversation away from her and any marital/reproductive plans.

And Juid, with the delightful surprise anyone receives at having their work seem valued, launched into a monologue detailing how he bravely welded an aluminum plate to the outer hull in complete vacuum. The woman listened and practiced professional visual cues of interest, despite the lack thereof.

But her intent to keep the conversation off her was ultimately doomed. Juid then asked: “So tell me about yourself.” It was a pointless question, and the answers rarely varied in significance. Infant mortality was high, and with such demand for heavy labor, women became under-valued for physical tasks. With resources allocated to the workforce, girls typically suffered chronic malnutrition and succumbed to disease very early. Those who made it to womanhood were drafted into the consort ranks—no exceptions.

But all individuals retain their vanity, and despite how banal her story might have been, she wanted to feel unique and meaningful. So she told her story with the appropriate embellishments, of her abusive father and absent mother. Of her orphaning when her father died in a maintenance accident. Of how she had had to fend for herself until she was of age and could enter the consort program. It was tragic, certainly, and likely mostly false. And besides, everyone’s life had become tragic.

But still, Juid responded with genuine kindness. Woman or not, she was a person, and life here was hard. “That must have been very difficult. You’re very strong to have survived. Have you given any thoughts to your future plans?”

The question was riddled with implications, of course, and the woman merely sighed, having finally been unable to indefinitely forestall the inevitable. “Look, I’ll say this tactfully, because you had the decency to start a conversation first, but I’m not interested. With the options available to me, I’m not going to choose a maintenance technician. I’m here because this is my assignment, but soon enough I will have the opportunity to entertain at events for the higher levels of management. At that point I will move on a man of high station.”

She had already decided. Inwardly, Juid frowned. He hadn’t even had the opportunity to use his more charming lines. Automatically, he glanced around, but by now the room was filled and crowds had gathered around each of the other women. Many other men were eyeing Juid and the woman intently, waiting for their turn. He was instantly irritated at the pointless game, and felt extreme contempt for his peers, leering as they were. Perhaps it was because Juid was just like them. Well, he could still have his victory.

“Ok, now that that’s been discussed, I have a different proposition for you.”

“You know that’s against the rules. Breaking that carries heavy sentencing. Besides, I doubt you could make it worth my while.”

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh.” The woman seemed surprised, and a tad disappointed. No doubt she received that proposition constantly and had responded automatically. It hadn’t occurred to her that Juid would want something else. And despite her lack of interest, the fact that Juid wasn’t propositioning her partially deflated her ego. She had no interest, but she certainly felt that Juid should still have physical interest in her. She was a woman, after all.

“I presume, then, that you have no interest in any of the other men here, considering your prior comments. If our conversation were to end, you would no doubt have to repeat yourself to every man in this room before the evening ends. Stay with me for the party, and I’ll consider the matter dropped. We can discuss other affairs, and together escape the indignities of romantic rejection.”

The woman blinked. She hadn’t considered this option. “This seems like a fair exchange, but I feel I would gain more. What do you have to gain from this arrangement?”

“Simple. If you spend that amount of time with me, the other men will assume there’s more where there isn’t. I gain some peer reputation. What’s more, is I’ll have a chance to speak with a woman on equal terms, and potentially learn more about them, with all pretenses set aside. It’s a tactic I hadn’t considered before.”

“It’s a new concept to me as well. Very well then, you have yourself a deal, though I should warn you that there may not be much insight to be had. You see, I haven’t met a woman yet who feels differently that I. You are quite possibly, out of luck, unless you manage to achieve a higher station.”

“I’m beginning to suspect as much.” Juid thought for a moment. “Is there anything I have or can do that you want?”

“Are we already back to this? I told you I’m not interested…”

“No, you misunderstand. I’m thinking we can create a mutually-serving partnership, if there’s anything I have that you want.”

“Ah, you wish to bribe me then. That’s uncommon for the lower folk. I’m not sure. What is it that I have that you want?”

“Advice, or information, regarding a certain Bob.”

“Mmm, so you’ve taken my words to heart already and are seeking promotion. Do you wish to gain his good graces, or replace him?”

“Is it really so obvious?”

“Station intrigue come with the job. So which is it?”

“Replace him. He is fairly useless, and I doubt he’d ever consider me for promotion.  I tend to not make him look good.”

“He’s also a lecher. Some of my colleagues have complained about him, though I’ve never had the pleasure of his company myself.”

“So you’ll help me?”

“Absolutely not.” She laughed. “Don’t you see? There’s no sisterhood among the consorts. It brings me joy to see my competition suffer.”

Juid thought a moment. It was obvious he’d have to up the ante. “Ok, materials then. Surely you like stuff? Physical comforts?”

“Yes, but what do you have to offer that I couldn’t get through someone better connected?”

“The benefits of someone who’s not worried about losing his job, as it’s not very lucrative, as you well know. This frees me of some of the more burdensome rules regarding say, fair trade?”

“Petty thievery?” Again she was amused.

“Smuggling.”

“How so?” Now she was interested.

“My position affords me access to the more restricted regions of the station. It also puts me in contact with the other stations regularly. Placing orders is so commonplace that my communications are rarely monitored. And payment doesn’t come from me, but rather would be subsidized by the station.” Juid was unaccustomed to crime, but on more than a few occasions he had considered it as he toiled away in squalor.

It was enough for her. “So you can obtain black market goods by selling off our water supply?”

Juid felt a twinge of guilt. The finite resource was the very reason behind his ignored arguments to management, about resource acquisition and allocation. But he wasn’t naïve. Juid knew how the upper management lived. Surely a little extra wouldn’t be missed. “Keep it down. And yes, that is the proposal. Now what do you want?”

The woman thought some more. “Well now, this is a first. The opportunity to acquire without promising marriage and ‘favors’ to the station’s elite. You of course realize, should I accept, I in no way owe you any obligation to marriage. I’m off-limits to you.”

“You’ve made that perfectly clear, repeatedly.”

“I’m just wanting to be absolutely clear. You have a partner.” She raised her glass to seal the deal. Juid did likewise.

“Another thing—I’m going to need a bona fides.” He was pushing it.

“Shrewd, I like it. You’ll certainly make a better business partner than lover. Very well. The report can’t come from me, for obvious reasons, but your superior is having extra-marital relations with a certain Traci, to be specific. I mentioned watching her torment is amusing, but to be rid of her entirely would be useful as well. Use that as you will, either to oust or leverage him. Once rumor is confirmed, my competition will be lessened.”

“‘Lessened’?”

“You don’t know about this, but there’s an exclusive brothel, staffed by Disgraced.”

“‘Disgraced’?”

“Yes, it does happen, whether through temptation, going too far to manipulate, or rape. These women are unfit for marriage, but still serve a useful purpose. Whether that’s right or not is not mine to debate. Traci was always loose—she’ll enjoy the employment.” The woman laughed.

It became clear that continuing down this path would ruin lives, but Juid was too curious to stop now. “One last question: What’s your name?”

“Roxanne, and now, this one’s free.” Under watchful eyes, she leaned over and kissed him, much to the loud jeering of Juid’s colleagues. Juid fumbled for words, which gave Roxanne the perfect physical and conversational exit. When Juid had regained his senses, Roxanne had already blended into the crowd.

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Shot in the Dark

I’ll begin with a conversation I had recently with my optometrist–it’s the same dialog I share with everyone who asks me about hunting:

Optometrist:  “You hunt squirrels?  What do you hunt them with?”

Me:  “Typically a 20 gauge.”

Optometrist:  “A shotgun?  Is there anything left?”

This is, without fail, the exact followup response, to the word, of everyone who has ever asked me this question.  I’m not sure where this idea came from that a shotgun was akin to a mortar, but I’m assuming the usual source of dramatized misinformation: cinema.  I too have seen many a scene where shotguns have blown people through windows and violently severed appendages, so the masses must think I’m out in the woods Rambo-style, half-naked and clutching a knife in my teeth, blasting animals apart and painting the trees in blood.

So, as a PSA to the casual reader of this post: shotguns aren’t naval cannons.

Now to those who do know what shot sizes are and how they’re designed, I was at a local Cabella’s and saw this:

It’s rare to even find buckshot in 20 gauge, but this Cabella’s not only had that, but 00-buck , 3-ball, and this (2-ball).  Granted, if I ever hunted squirrels with these and actually managed to hit one, there might not be much left.  This is approaching what we could call small artillery, so I guess there is a shred of truth to people’s shotgun presumptions, were I to hunt with grossly inappropriate shot sizes.

But anyway, of course I needed these as an immediate addendum to the zombie-home-defense .30-06.  At the time I was putting that together, my dad asked me if the 150-gr rounds would be sufficient.  I assured him that it would, provided I get a proper head-shot.  But he suggested I needed something with less finesse and more total damage potential.  So here you are, dad.  If any zombies break through the perimeter, a close-range blast with one of these should do the trick.

And of course, if any home-invasion should occur while I’m waiting around for the Zombie Apocalypse, I can dispatch the ne’er-do-well with my 2-balls.

–Simon