Tag Archives: knives

Tips On Stealing An Xmas Tree

treeIn today’s economy this topic generates a lot of interest, Gentle Readers, so – in this atheistic, agnostic. faithless world – let us look at how we can ‘spruce up’ (ahem) our lives by sticking shiny things on dead trees. As you see in the photo provided by ABC News, some people like to get trees for free!

About ‘the holidays’…here in the great North West, anybody driving in store parking lots over the past week can attest to how the holidays bring out the worst in people. As part of our calendar training this time of year represents our time…our chance to celebrate, our chance to consume, our chance to eat and drink too much, our time to satisfy as many cravings, gain as much weight, and kill as many brain cells as possible.
Banks used to have ‘Christmas Clubs,’ savings accounts where people squirreled away cash all year long to blow during the holidays. We wonder if the clubs still exist. Banks don’t stick around long anymore. A year is time enough to get scammed. Remember when we trusted banks? No, not when we trusted them before the Great Depression; we mean remember when we trusted banks up to a few years ago, after we forgot the depression.
The bottom line, as regards stealing a tree, here is: too many people are at the shopping areas. We act crazy enough, abusing our way through the tortuous weeks, but many must have their special holiday food and are in a hurry to get home and stuff themselves. Many can’t wait to see what they are going to pay for on credit for the next year and a half. Most want to park close to the door because they must carry the all of the precious bounty. Impatience reigns.
Cars get keyed. Frenzied parkers hit and run, scraping or denting anything parked on either side of their space.
Accomplish stealing your tree away from such behavior.

Several choices present themselves. Each person has their own way but since the holidays haunt us, we pose a few guilt-free solutions. First and most obvious, we present the old-fashioned way of driving to the woods, then parking along the road. Find whatever conifer grows in your path as you walk into the forest, you cut it down and bundle it on home.
The same method produces equal success when picking your prize from the lawn of a local mall or landscaped office park; your old high school principal’s house makes for a perfect spot to shop, maybe the school itself. Sticking with the guilt-free theme, bear in mind that nurseries have the nicest trees. These trees stand proud and straight in rows until sold….sold. It should be a crime to make money on holidays which celebrate spiritual beliefs. That is the same kind of shit Jesus threw the moneylenders out of the temple for. What harm can we do to an evil merchant?
When stealing from a business…make it a large business. Leave the Mom & Pop tree nurseries and find a chain store.
Most importantly, never ever steal anything from a friend!

Equipment is paramount to success. Chainsaws (we prefer Stihl) wake people so are best used only for deep woods scenarios, or very bold daylight ‘removals’ from front yards of vacationing enemies. Hand-saws present tricky problems, particularly if you use such tools infrequently. Green wood not only causes blisters, it shows the tenacity of a whole Druid nation if your blade is dull.
Those magic knives that cut through a can of beans, then cut down a pine tree and then cuts tomatoes into the thinnest wedges possible? Forget the part about the pine tree. Ha. We tried that years ago in a nursery one rainy night with a QVC gift knife which worked wonderfully on TV. With the rise of security cameras far off in the future, the new moon provided enough cover to allow us an hour to hack through the muddy trunk. Blisters formed in the first five minutes. Our legs froze from squatting down low enough to cut an even line across the sappy, cold wood.
Naturally, dragging the muddy tree into the house filled us with a sense of pride. Sopping wet, cold, blistered and bedraggled, we saved fifteen dollars to abuse ourselves with….enough for a case of beer at that time.

We presume that most Kind Readers are adults.
If you have children, then you probably need a tree. If not, think it over. For you parents in the house, we suggest the good old American Way – trickery! Tell your kids that Santa brings the tree when he drops down the chimney of the apartment you live in. Slip the kids a little eggnog (with a Mickey, natch) and take a midnight drive late on the 24th. Pack your pliers, a couple wire clothes hangers, and a machete or similar large knife. Avoid using QVC knives.
Drive toward your local shopping center (better yet, the best one in your town) and there you’ll find a beautiful assortment of misfit trees. Awww…just like on the Rudolph TV special, sorta.
Most trees have a good side – the one that is showing, or the side which is face up if it is on the ground. Turn them around and there’ll be branches barren and broken. Sad in a way, if you are an Arborist, however finding two half-trees to wire together with hangers solves so many problems. Besides providing for our families we utilize trees which would have otherwise died in vain. We see a certain urban heroism in this. Next, simply use the machete/knife to even out the bad sides of two tree of the same approximate height by chopping off the deformed branches on the ‘sick’ sides. Fit them together until they appear to be one tree. Children do not notice the double trunk if you steal enough presents to hide it behind. Bind top and bottom together with hangers, set it up in the living room and just watch those tender little eyes light up next morning! Be careful and try to find to trees of the same variety. A half-pine, half-spruce tree might cause a curious child to wonder; if this is your only option, concoct a good story and have it ready in the morning.
These few helpful hints carried us through many a holiday season.
We hope you find them to be useful, too! Just remember the security cameras!

Now, go get a tree – if you must.



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Flirty Perv Faces the Blade

Why do knives and perversity suit each other so well? It seems that they are often found together.

Both can be found at the grocery store, as well.

Waiting at the deli counter and chatting about the butcher’s kitties, my eyes wandered over the cooler shelves to find my favorite brand of pickles when the view was blocked. It was a person of indeterminable sex. Dirty looking, with a snotty upper lip and badly splotched glasses, the form wore a cap over amorphous mid-length hair and wore an dirty army fatigue jacket. Male or female, whatever, there was something wrong with the picture, so I looked away.

After a little more about the kitties and with cheese in hand, it was time to shop.

In the first aisle, I saw the creepy person from the pickle shelf. For sake of the tale, we shall presume it is a male. Walking past him, I grabbed a few cans of tuna from the shelf, then went around the corner to the next aisle. There he was again!

A foot and a half taller, in good shape and able to kick ass, the person did not worry me so much as annoy the hell out of me. There were options…like confront the bastard but that seemed too easy. Since all there was to assume is that this was some kind of pervert or an otherwise plain crazy person, why not squeeze a few laughs out of it?

Letting him trail me, it sort of startled me when he stood next to me, maybe two feet away, while I surveyed the crackers. Something had to be done soon. Something was going to happen.

While working down the aisles, one end to the other, he was fully ignored. No affirmation was given, not even eye contact since my shades, Rayban Wayfarers, had prescription strength lenses and only came off at home.

There was no question that he could be effortlessly hurt. It struck me that he was pretty brave for a demented fuck and wonder if he had worked up to it by practicing on women or kids, most likely kids.

We came to some coolers holding milk and juice. A child sat alone in a shopping cart, unattended…a boy, maybe two years old or a little younger. “Why me?”, he wailed, “Why me?” and I had to just laugh at the cosmic possibilities of his question and wondered what pivotal moment in his infant life had led him to such an existential query. He looked so serious and plaintive.

Why had he asked and why was some pervert following me through a supermarket during broad daylight? These and many other questions burned in my mind as the aisle containing housewares lay before me.

Strolling down the shelves with my shadow, I stopped fast to see if he would walk into me but he stopped just short of bumping me. The answer lay in front of me in the assortment of kitchen gadgets hanging from racks at the end of the row. There were sponges, pasta forks, soap dishes, bottle openers, plugs for sink drains, and knives, two rows of knives in assorted sized and types of blades.

As the shiny blades gleamed before me, the gurgling breath of the fetid figure following was audible. He was, again, two feet to my right. Psychologists contend that most people tend to react badly when the eighteen inch, personal barrier of space is violated. They may be right.

The largest knife, with the biggest and longest blade was a wooden-handled butcher’s job with a fourteen inch blade. The knives were lashed to colorful lengths of laminated cardboard, which bore information like what type of knife, the brand name and place of manufacture, as well as holding the bar code for scanning the price. Two bands of plastic, one halfway up the handle and the other halfway down from the tip of the blade, held the cardboard fast to the knive and gave it something to hang from.

My right hand found the handle and pulled the utensil down from the shelf.

My left hand grasped the edge of the cardboard near the tip of the blade and bent it back to where the plastic lash held it, exposing about six inches of shining steel, bright under the fluorescent lights of the store.

Now was the time.

Turning quickly to the figure, I held up the point of the knife and looked over the top of my shades, so that the blade was between my eyes and the eyes behind the filthy glasses. Smiling as wide as I could manage, showing every tooth possible and laughing, I stepped toward him, chortling maniacally.

As he ran down the aisle, I pursed my lips and went ‘tsk, tsk’ to myself and returned the tool to it’s place on the rack. “Sore loser,” the voice in my head said.

I thought, “I wonder if the pineapple cottage cheese is on sale?”


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