March 28, 1984. That's the night, my BALTIMORE COLTS were stolen by that drunk, ASSHOLE, bastard. Every March 28, I'm usually the biggest jerk you'll ever meet. Somebody could say HI and I would say Shut the hell up. But I decided that the best way to deal with my BALTIMORE COLTS being stolen wasn't to take it out on complete strangers. But the DRUNK, ASSHOLE, Bastard.
So I went to a shooting range on Friday March 28, 2008. I blew up a picture of that DRUNK, ASSHOLE, Bastard to use as targets. I used a five shot 357 hand gun. I had never been to a shooting range before. But I did OK for my first time. As you can see I hit my target once. But once is all I needed. I totally missed the picture twice. I missed the target twice, though one came really close. Next time I won't miss.
I went to the shooting range with 11 other people, most of who I've known for only a short time. Of course most people asked who was that asshole in the picture. Somebody asked me what's the significance of March 28th since I told her, I had to go to the shooting range on March 28th. I really had a tough time explaining, after all I don't want to cry in front of people who are mostly strangers. Maybe this will explain it.
In case you don't know the asshole in the picture is the fat, drunk, asshole, jerk who STOLE the BALTIMORE COLTS on March 28, 1984. He's been rotting in hell, officially since 1997 but really since 1972 when he bought, then destroyed the BALTIMORE COLTS.
