Vanel
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A club member sent this to me, and, after I stopped laughing, I decided to share it. Even though it's not rocketry-related, the mentality is so similar to that of many of the rocketeers I know.
Also, don't worry - the innocent are not harmed.
Also, don't worry - the innocent are not harmed.
Subject: [GCFL.net] Pocket Taser Stun Gun: A Great Gift for the Wife
This was submitted by a guy who purchased his lovely wife a
"pocket Taser" for their anniversary.
Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop
that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 22nd
anniversary, and I was looking for a little something extra
for my wife Toni. What I came across was a 100,000-volt,
pocket/purse-sized Taser. The consequences of the Taser were
supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse
effects on her assailant, allowing her adequate time to
retreat to safety.... WAY TOO COOL!
Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I
loaded two triple-A batteries in the darn thing and pushed
the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however,
that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal
surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arch of
electricity darting back and forth between the prongs.
Awesome!!!
Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Toni what that burn
spot is on the face of her microwave.
Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to
myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two
triple-A batteries, right?!!!
There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on
intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the
directions and thinking that I really needed to try this
thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I
thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second)
and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I
was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself
against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would
work as advertised. Am I wrong?
So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my
reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose,
directions in one hand, Taser in another. The directions
said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your
assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle
spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second
burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the
ground like a fish out of water.
Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the
batteries.
All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring
about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference --
pretty cute, really -- and loaded with two itsy, bitsy
triple-A batteries, thinking to myself, "No possible way!"
What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do
my best.....
I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head
cocked to one side as if to say, "Don't do it, master,"
reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny little
ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.... I decided to give
myself a one-second burst just for the heck of it. I touched
the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and HOLY
WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION!!!
I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door,
picked me up in the recliner, and then body slammed us both
on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely
recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with
tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, my
left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and
tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me making
meowing sounds I had never heard before, licking my face,
undoubtedly thinking to herself, "Do it again, do it again!"
Note: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a
Taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a
one-second burst when you zap yourself. You will not let go
of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a
violent thrashing about on the floor. A three-second burst
would be considered conservative.
A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a
relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what
little I had left), sat up, and surveyed the landscape. My
bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.
How did they get up there???
My triceps, right thigh, and both nipples were still
twitching. My face felt as if it had been shot up with
Novocain and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs.
Still in shock,
Tommy
