Short story: aggressive asshole breaks into house with ugly intentions, gets shot dead by homeowner.
Because this is Florida, the police response is a shrug.
Tag: Good Guys
Dept. Of Righteous Shootings
I don’t even want to give you an executive summary of this one because it’s so fine, but here’s the punch line:
Officers were able to locate the goblin and transport him to the hospital, but he died of his wounds.
The employee, who has not been identified, did not sustain any injuries.
Conviviality
We have a guest in our house: New Wife’s brother will be staying with us for a week or so, having managed the 330-hour flight from Johannesburg to DFW (some exaggeration, perhaps).
Anyway, he is a man of gargantuan tastes (despite being slender in frame), so yesterday consisted of picking him up from the airport, feeding him breakfast at our place followed by an evening which consisted of beer, wine and BBQ. Also much laughter and good times (see title).
Today promises more of the same — and we haven’t even reached the Christmas weekend yet.
Oy.
And he brought with him from Seffrica all sorts of delicacies e.g. biltong, Richelieu brandy and various Christmas comestibles, so the effects of his visit will be felt long hence.
Next week will be spent pretty much at the range, as he attempts to deplete my ammo stock as much as he’s started to attack my booze cupboard. Little does he know…
What fun. What glorious, glorious fun.
My head hurts.
Changing Times
I have mentioned in the past that I planned on giving Connie’s Browning High Power to Daughter for her birthday, for hereditary reasons. Well, I broached the topic with Daughter, and was surprised when she showed no interest in the Browning at all.
“I have enough handguns. I mean, I have as many as you do.” (true)
“But it’s your Mom’s gun.”
“It’s like offering to give me her favorite hammer — it really doesn’t mean anything, but thank you for the offer.”
She’s completely unsentimental about the gun — although I wouldn’t be surprised if the Browning didn’t also trigger some unwelcome memories along the way, but I’m not going to explore that little issue. She doesn’t want the High Power, and that’s that.
Which is fine by me. I love the BHP, its Europellet chambering notwithstanding, so it’s not going to go anywhere.
I also listened to Hackathorn and Wilson discussing the 9mm cartridge, and Bill Wilson is of the considered opinion that in terms of tissue damage and even stopping power, the new breed of 124gr 9mm hollowpoints are as effective as the lighter 185gr .45 ACP cartridges — which are exactly what I’m carrying in the 1911 because of recoil (pain) issues with the heavier 230gr.
So the plan has changed. Son&Heir will indeed be getting my old Springfield 1911 .45 ACP for his birthday, and…
…I’m going to be carrying the High Power 9mm in its place:
…loaded with these:
You may all pick yourselves up off the floor, now.
And yes, I’m aware that these may be the End Times.
Dept. Of Righteous Shootings: International Division
Well, here’s one to cheer you up. Seems as though these three Italian mopes decided to rob a jewellery store in Grinzane Cavour, a little town about thirty miles outside Turin. All went well, for a while: they waved a (fake) gun around and tied up the owner’s daughter.
Then the 67-year-old owner said “Fuck this shit!” in Italian, pulled his own gun, shot two of the assholes dead and wounded the third.
Some background:
The same jewellery shop in had already suffered a robbery a few years ago on May 22, 2015 when two thieves, one of whom was disguised as a woman, entered the shop and tied up the owner with plastic ties after beating him violently.
No wonder he’d had enough.
Sadly, the tale has not ended well for our hero, because Italy:
Immediately after the events, Roggero was accused of culpable excess of self-defense, but now he will have to answer for murder. According to the public prosecutor’s office, Roggero would have chased the three robbers who, having already left the jewelry store with the stolen goods, were fleeing outside the store and from close range would have shot ‘with the intention of causing their death, thereby voluntarily exceeding the limits of legitimate patrimonial defence’.
Yeah… so?
In any sane society, a jury would pat the guy on the back and say, “Good shooting, Tex!” (once again, in Italian). But this is Italy, which means he’s probably going to jail for doing what I believe 100% of my Readers would have done under the same circumstances.
Love Story
In an age when marriage is ignored in favor of “hook-ups”, “partnerships” and “friends-with-benefits”, it’s heartening to see how one couple, at least, started young and over fifty years later, are still making it work:
Devoted couple Harry and Sandra Redknapp admit they love each no less than they did after exchanging vows more than half-a-century ago.
Redknapp was a promising young footballer with West Ham United when he met apprentice hairdresser Sandra Young on a rowdy dancefloor above Stratford’s legendary Two Puddings pub in 1968.
Months later they were married, with Sandra supporting her husband as he finished his football career with defunct north American club Seattle Sounders before establishing himself as a much-loved coach and manager.
My Murkin Readers will probably be going “Harry who?” but the fact of the matter is that Harry is as famous Over There as Bill Parcells, Phil Jackson or Tom Landry ever were Over Here.
I know that to people of his generation, such loyalty, devotion and fidelity might seem nothing special, but here’s the difference: his and Sandra’s marriage has been a celebrity one, subject to all the scrutiny and limelight that only the awful British press can bring.
Stories of his devotion to Sandra are legion (some of which are contained in the above article), but it should be known that Harry would have been a juicy target for all the fame groupies (step forward, Ulrika Jonsson) for whom his notch on their much-chiseled bedposts would have been a noteworthy one.
But he never strayed, and as he’s got older, that loyalty has made Harry Redknapp all the more beloved to the people of Britain since his retirement from football management.
Well played, mate.