manbirdexperiment wrote:



We'll have showers.

 oldslabsides wrote:

 
P U

lily34 wrote:



Perhaps we should start a commune on Bowen Island.  Run off the local constabulary and live in hippie bliss.

phineas wrote:


at bunniboi's home. that's where i'd like to live.

MrsHobieJoe wrote:



Wales rebelled before....

 MrsHobieJoe wrote:

  One being, no guns....

 phineas wrote:

 

That wouldn't be the part of town the CC Bookstore is in would it?

North Vancouver.... 

oldslabsides wrote:


That's Rio De Janeiro....

Back where I left my heart... SWFL.  It is, quite simply, where I belong.  I had to leave to figure that out.

Ah ha, I just checked in to RP and found the lovely new Web Presence.

Also found this thread.

So, where to live?  As in, to where would I want to move myself, Locks, Stocks and Barrels?

I am thinking the Ruby Mountains of Nevada.  Around Elko.  High in the mountains, where there are numerous rivers and streams fed by snow-capped mountains.  Verdant greenery and trees.

And guns, oh yes, firearms.  Nevada is the perfect place to own and use firearms.

1.  Let's see, a Smith and Wesson .40 caliber semi-auto pistol with the 20 round magazine for everyday carrying on the belt.

2.  A Browning semi-automatic 12-gauge shotgun, with the 20 inch rifled barrel for firing "deer slugs" which I will have cleverly hollow pointed using a drill press.  Oh, and the "magazine extender, which increases the capacity to at least 7 rounds.  And a sling to carry same over the shoulder whilst walking the property;

3.  An illegally modified el-cheapo 12-gauge pump shotgun with butt stock sawed off at the pistol grip and the barrel sawed off at the magazine tube, make the whole weapon about 15 inches long.  Two of each, stored in a quick release holster fastened to each side of the bed (his and hers, of course)  Loaded up with #8 bird shot, then #4 turkey shot, then #00 buck shot, then slugs — for "graduated response to an intruder.

4.  On top of the house, in an innocent appearing "weather cupola", a Browning .50 caliber M2 machine gun (purchased from the usual corrupt military of an unidentified country south of the US border.  Five ammo cans with 1000 rounds of linked ball, tracer, armor piercing, ball (B-T-AP-B — a mix familiar to any infantryman).

5.  On the approach to the house, up a winding gravel road, 55 gallon plastic barrels situation every 25 feet, staggered on either side of the road; partly buried and covered with camouflage material.  Each barrel loaded to the gunnel's with a home made device originated by one of the military engineering world's geniuses:  Sébastien Le Prestre, Seigneur de Vauban.  The marvelous "Napalm flame fougasse"; each individually controlled by a dual system of buried wires and switches and CB radio sending digital coded signals to the detonators.

6.  Finally, since the home will be constructed over the entry to a 100-year old gold mine (which dot the landscape of Northeast Nevada like the craters of the moon), a combination wine cellar holding mostly California's marvelous Concannon Vineyards Merlot; and a complete whiskey still system order from and built by a certain web-site company in Canada.  This is the "final redoubt", equipped with a large falling deadblock (first seen in the Pyramids) to seal the entrance to the mine shaft.  In the Living Area of the Final Redoubt, a large collection of Organically Grown Marijuana, a cleverly crafted flameless recirculating water bong, and the usual panoply of sex toys, whips, cudgels, handcuffs, low and high pressure water irrigation devices for colonic cleansing, and, of course, a 30-day supply of Radio Paradise's offerings — recorded using StreamRipper running on the Linux Box combination sound system, pornographic video display and solitaire playing device.

7.  Last, but certainly not least, for that final moment of Gotterdamerungs, a footlocker filled and prepared with DuPont 50/50 Nitro-Stick Dynamite placed underneath a very comfy bean bag lounge.  While the Waco and Ruby Ridge boys are knocking on your final door, a single turn of the key and vaporization takes place instantly.  Matter of fact, so instantly that the human brain and nervous system has no time to even start to react to defenestration.

Okey Dokey ... that's all folks.

 oldslabsides wrote:



 

Rio de Janeiro

toker wrote:



where is that?

 Coaxial wrote:

 

Ah.  The entertainment. 

Tho I've never been there, I seriously think I'd love living in Wales.

 smokinsean wrote:



 

Go Ahead. Twist my arm.

And I don't agree with Mr Wolfe. You can go home. It's just that home changes while your gone.

 Hairfarmer wrote:

 
You can never go home... at least that's what I hear.

Damascus, VA. 

Tiny, remote, but less than a day's drive from several metros.  Appalachian Trail.  Virginia Creeper Trail.  Blue Ridge Mountains.  Rivers.  God, that is my favoritest place in the world.  I'm starting to rethink this job plan I've got... Won't be able to live in Damascus (and to make this thing worth doing I have to plan on staying with this job, in one locatioan or another—not including the mountain south— for 20 years)... But I'd get 30+ days of vacation per year, starting the first year, so I guess as long as I could visit I'll be OK

 JustJanis wrote:

 
Haven't worn it yet.  From the feel of it, it's still loaded with enough red dirt to color me at least as red as did the sun at Monterey beach this afternoon with the grandkids. I think I'll throw it in the clothes hamper and get it washed before I wear it.  Or wait until I get to Pete and stain all of BHD's furniture.

'Night JJ, sleep well.

 OlderThanDirt wrote:

 
Oh Gary, just put the t-shirt on and you'll get a load of laughs!!!

I'm hitting the hay Mister.  

 JJ