I got my hair cut yesterday at Larry's Barber Shop. Larry's is a small two-chair place that's been in the small town near where we live for the past few decades. It's a gathering place for males of a certain age who have plenty of time on their hands, not much to do, and strong opinions (read: old farts). Not only can you get a haircut for $10, but you can get a feel for the mood of the local populace.
There were a number of news stories being discussed, starting with the escape of exotic animals in Ohio. Since deer season opens in a couple of weeks, the consensus was that this would have been a fine opportunity to get in some target practice.
Then the topic shifted to the five French Moroccans caught breaking into the Bexar County (San Antonio) courthouse. This was when everyone thought it was some sort of terrorist plot (before the revelation that it was just a bunch of drunks having an Animal House moment). Again the consensus was bring out the deer rifles and turn 'em loose. Another opportunity for more practice.
Finally, someone brought up the antics of the occupy whatever flea baggers. You can guess the response: more practice.
By now my hair was cut. I made sure to tip Larry on the way out. I didn't want to be the target of more practice...
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