Yeah. A real tank. A real live WW2 tank.
The kind you have to shoot with a bazooka to stop because it weighs about 40 or 50 tons or some damned thing.
There's this clown that runs one of the pro gun organizations that is a real pain in the ass that ought to work for Moms Demand Action or one of those Sarah Brady type outfits for all the good he has done for the Second Amendment. He's been screwing up by the numbers and pissing too many people off.
Anyway his organization is always offering prizes of guns and various other things, none of which I seem to be able to use and now the Grand Prize of his drawing is a tank.
Now I'm a working stiff and I'm not in the seven figure category. I don't own a Ferrari and frankly don't want one which is another story in itself and I digresses again.
But still, I have no use for a tank.
I guess if you make a donation they put your name in the hat and if you win they probably think they're doing you a big favor hyhaving a humongous flatbed show up at your place and park the damned thing on your front lawn.
So there's Piccolo out ther sailing the Seven Seas singing hi-hippity hee...a sailor's life for me as he get off and comes home to find fifty ons of totally worthless iron on his front lawn wondering where the hell THAT came from.
He punches his way through the fog and looks at the lovely card attached to it and sees the idiot running the organization didn't even have the decency to send an email giving me a head's up of some sort.
Hmmm...I'll fix THIS guy! Hello, Dewey, Cheetham and Howe? I got a little project for you. I'll split even steven whatever you get from the bastard that PUT A FIFTY TON TANK ON MY LAWN!
Two weeks later I get an email. "Hello, Piccolo! We're in a real bind! We're getting sued! Please send whatever donation you can afford..."
He ain't getting nothin' from me. Not one red cent because I have really lousy luck winning stuff. That's a slam dunk thaat I'd win the damned thing.
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