Post by the outliers on Jul 3, 2017 8:32:19 GMT
We catch up with The Outliers on a small farm nestled in the rolling hills of southern California.
HWC: Hey everybody, the boys are back and we're comin' to you LOCKED and LOADED! Per ushe, I'm here with my closest, dearest droog and confidant, Sawtooth Grin.
GRIN: Grin tips his hat... Trust.
HWC: We've been invited here to this beautiful and secluded location by our good pal, Tunnel Rat--say hello, baby cakes--
TUNNEL RAT: Hello, baby cakes.
HWC snaps his fingers and points toward Tunnel Rat.
HWC: --to loosen up and blow off a little steam..
The camera suddenly pans over to a sprawling shooting range carved out of a dense patch of woods. They had to bring an extra layer of danger and excitement to the proceedings, so in true Outlier fashion, there's also a FULLY STOCKED open bar complete with a bartender in a tuxedo serving up a myriad of mind-numbing refreshments. However.. it also doubles as the armory with all the artillery on display. Hanging behind the bar are a various assortment of PSD and PDW's: an M43 7.62, FN P90, Kriss Super V, AA12 recoiless automatic shotgun, bulk ammo, precision ammo, all manner of scopes, optics and laser-sighting tech. If you stare too long you end up cross-eyed at all the polymers, alloys, finishes, calibers, stock and barrel configurations, buffer systems, trigger systems, muzzle brakes and so on, to infinity and beyond. The only thing missing was a motorcycle with a .50 caliber machine gun mounted to the handlebars. Maybe next year...
GRIN: Happy Independence Day! Gonzo Style! I know what you're thinking.. America and her guns.. cultural icons embedded in the brain like saints in the stained-glass windows of a church: Colt, Remington, Winchester, Smith & Wesson, brands curated with all the pomp and solemnity of holy relics. That's not what this is..
HWC: Trust. This isn't an NRA bro-barian brou·ha·ha.. No glossy signage or propaganda pushing a steady visual diet of Americana with all the usual suspects--cowboys and pioneers, war heroes, the family, founding fathers, rugged outdoors individualism, the defense of Freedom with a capital F, all embodied by photogenic white people, not a brown or black face to be seen. Don't worry, no need to be frightened..
GRIN: Wait, I think I just heard hundreds of firearm sales reps collectively choking on their Cheetos. 'Not...be...frightened? What the hell! Who do you think we’re supposed to sell all these guns to?!'
HWC: Those sales reps needn’t worry. Fear is like the herpes of American politics: the symptoms may bloom or wither according to stress levels or the phases of the moon, but the virus never dies. That the world is full of dangers is beyond dispute. Peril is the air we humans have always breathed, a fact of life that demands of us open eyes, a clear head and emotional self-control. Otherwise we’re doomed.
GRIN: The so-called 'real world' will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called 'real world' of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear.. anger.. frustration and craving and self-worship. The freedom to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms.. alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom seems to be the preferred choice. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious to us won't be talked about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving…
HWC: The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in a multitude of painful, often humiliating ways each and every day.
GRIN: That is real freedom. That is being educated and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness--the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.
HWC: Freedom of choice.
GRIN: So now that we have all our bullshit opinions outta the way, we can have a little fun.
HWC: Amen. Boredom is out of the question!
GRIN: I second that.. and in the spirit of freedom, I motion that this hallowed ground be referred to as OWLtliers farm in rememberance of Hunter S. Thompson.
TOGETHER: When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
GRIN: Nowadays, he'd likely earn himself a diagnosis of ADD, along with IQ scores well in the genius range. Add to these a taste for risk, an acute and easily offended sense of justice.. and a general contempt for authority and you get a prime example of a distinctly American strain of wildness.
Lots of boys like things that go boom, and some never stop liking them. HST--who once gave a firecracker bomb to David Letterman on the air--was one of those boys. His passion going hand in glove with his famous appetite for drugs, alcohol and other adult activities, including politics and the Book of Revelation.
HWC: Y'know, I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone...BUT...they've always worked for me. And although he succumbed to his demons, which we all battle our entire lives, it in no way invalidates his message. Rather, it charges it with even more urgency, even more pathos.
GRIN: We salute you, sir.
CRACK!--a salvo salute of gunfire from Tunnel Rat who stands right behind The Outliers.
HWC: Whoa! That scared the Beetlejuice out of me.. and nobody say that again twice.
TUNNEL RAT: Beetlejuice?
GRIN: Hey! We have enough problems here without introducing a troublemaker from the spirit world. Anyways, back to our gracious host, Tunnel Rat. Sorry we left you hangin' there buddy.
TUNNEL RAT: No worries, fellas.
HWC: Tunnel Rat was a military technical advisor and a Marine veteran of the Afghan War.
TUNNEL RAT: That's correct. I'll be your range master tonight. Now I know you guys have been here before and can handle yourselves at the range. I'm just making sure things don't get TOO outta hand and everyone gets home safe. Your designated driver if you will.
GRIN: TR is gonna be our gun guru and guide, our overseer of obliteration. TR also routinely works with battle scarred veterans and active duty soldiers.
TR: Another direct hit, Grin. I work with a group of premier mental health professionals to perform Prolonged Exposure Therapy. Veterans with PTSD are afraid of things like driving on highways, they're afraid of crowded places like a supermarket, of places like shopping malls. Even guns. PE therapy may start in a therapists office, and after a number of sessions where progressively more potentially distressing encounters have been successfully processed, the therapy may move "in vivo," or into real life settings where the traumatized person can confront their feared thing.. in real time.. with the help of a professional.
HWC: Amazing stuff, man. That reminds me, [nodding over at Grin...]we need to get you in touch with a guy Grin and I have trained with. He's an Iraq War vet.. coaches a mixed martial arts group for veterans back east. He says many veterans see hiking, hunting or shooting as a way to re-create their military experience, but without the danger. He's getting a degree in social work and has also received treatment for PTSD. Now, he says fighting in the gym helps him.
TR: Everybody deals with it differently. It's been a big challenge and we've had to work very hard to reverse public perception of 'Shooting Therapy' after the tragic loss of two of the most famous Marines in history, Chad Littlefield and--The American Sniper--Chris Kyle, the most celebrated sniper in U.S. military history. And to avoid any confusion, by no means am I attempting to glorify violence. We only try to examine it. To consider it an idelible part of the human experience would be an understatement. We've all been affected by it in one form or another and we think it's valuable as a society to acknowledge it.. to learn from it.
HWC: You don't have to tell me, brother. Chicago's murder rate is spiralling out of control. There's what? About twelve people shot every day.. violence has become a grim normality for many. Since 2001, Chicago has experienced some 8,000 murders. And if I'm not mistaken, that's more than the number of Americans killed in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq combined. Fuckin' breaks my heart.
GRIN: Heard that. No one wants to talk anymore, they just wanna shoot it out.
HWC: I know it has something to do with me becoming so interested in wrestling and combat sports as a whole. It allowed me a chance to work it all out in a ring instead of shooting it out in the streets. But you're right.. everyone deals with it differently.
GRIN: We're gonna deal with it in our own way right now--blowing off some steam, remember--by blowing some shit into orbit. Delicious irony..
TR: With absolutely no casualties.
HWC: Definitely.. just a healthy side of good, ol'-fashioned fun.
====== moments later..======
BARTENDER: What can I get you, sir?
It's absurd, so of course both Grin and the bartender try their best not to bust up laughing..
GRIN: I'll take that huge shotgun, please.
BARTENDER: Ah, the AA12 , a recoiless automatic shotgun. May I suggest the beehive rounds? One shot could field dress a deer..
GRIN: Sounds delightful. Thank you my good man. Feeling the weight of the weapon... Walkin', talkin' Jesus.. you wanna be the Lone Ranger or the Cisco Kid..
TR: Corrupts, how 'bout you try out this .45. It might not look like much, but it has enough stopping power to knock that ballistics dummy right out of his Keds.
HWC: Such a southern gentlemen. Singing to himself... If Roxi and Dragon know what is good for them, they best go run and hide.. Daddy's got a new .45!
GRIN: Believe us when we say that we got something for their punk asses!
BARTENDER: Before you both get started, might I recommend an aged whiskey?
BARTENDER: Or perhaps something stronger?
The bartender pulls an epic spliff of Cali's finest sticky-icky from a glass jar behind the bar.
TOGETHER: Words of wisdom, Lloyd.. words of wisdom..
HWC: He's like the house mixologist pairing stiff drinks and dank spliffs with HIGHLY customized, HIGH-powered weaponry..
TR: Fully stocked, you weren't kidding!
GRIN: Have you ever smoked bud in your life, TR?
TR: What do I look like, a narc? Of course I have.. C'mon, real cool person you're talking to here. Love grass. Love marijuana cigarettes..
HWC: That's why you're the designated driver. Don't mind us, we're just gettin' a little power in this tower.
GRIN: A little wattage in this cottage.
HWC: A little sizzle in the hizzle.
BARTENDER: I think you might need this then as well..
He reveals a flamethrower and The Outliers squeal with glee.
GRIN: Fire it up!
=====
After some loosening up, The Outliers and their intructor finally head over to the range. Everyone puts on protective headphones and adjusts the ear muffs to fit their head.
TR: Pay attention. You load the magazine like this, push down on the button on the side and drop the cartridges in with the bullets pointing this way.
TR demonstrated by loading the first round. He slaps the drum into the gun, racked the slide quickly, and set the safety on before laying the gun on the bench, with the muzzle pointed down range. Gripping the gun tightly in his right hand, Grin wrapped his fingers from his left hand tightly around his right and made sure he squeezed his palms together to control the grip. He lays both thumbs along the left side of the gun, TR showed him this grip and said it would avoid his thumb being bitten by the slide of the gun as it cycled. Grins clicks off the safety and takes aim.. slipping his index finger inside the trigger guard.
TR: Keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot..
Tunnel Rat supervises The Outliers in a fantastically violent display of tactical semi-automatic shotgun action. The pulse pounding thump of gunfire. Concussive blasts ring out and brass shell casings pile up beneath their feet. Hewhocorrupts in a gilly suit--looking like a half-grown Chewbacca--blasting his way through a series of targets that included watermelons, glass globes filled with red liquid, and fully clothed mannequins.
BAM! BAM! BAM!!
Shit exploding faster than you can snap your fingers. The gun oil smells wonderful, the burnt propellant not so much. It's very sharp and the back of their throats and eyes start stinging from it after about half an hour. It's basically Ship's Mast from Death Proof, you can't help but crack a smile in the face of such recklessness...
TR: Stop milkin' that trigger Corrupts! Short, controlled bursts.
This goes on for quite some time, cycling through various guns..they finally take a breather to discuss a few things. Their attention quickly pivots to Roxi Johnson and Congressman Dragon...
GRIN: Nice shootin', TEX.
HWC: You're not so bad yourself, Regulator.
GRIN: So, would you like to say a few words about those firing dummies.
HWC: Uh, well not all soldiers make it home..and those that are broken aren't always made whole...I thought I heard one of them say they liked raisins..
GRIN: Okay, moving on. I was talking about our opponents not the actual targets!
Sawtooth signals Tunnel Rat and the recording begins..
HWC: Well, that's exactly what they are, right? Targets.. Roxi you're number one contender after winning the Azteca Rumble. Undefeated Soaring Eagle Champ. Someone upstairs certainly likes you. And everyone down here is comin' for you. There's a storm coming, Mrs. Johnson.. You and your friends better batten down the hatches, because when it hits, you're all gonna wonder how you ever thought you could live so large and leave so little for the rest of us. The whole world is wounded while you stand around and heal like an angel. You might think all of this sounds, 'So crazy!' but your life is like a Disney movie so.. You're out there glowing and smooth skinned thinking that you won't be found..
HWC: You think you can vacate the title and desert the division after facing your only true challenge. I don't know whether I should be flattered or insulted. I'm leaning hard into the latter.. At this point, what does the Soaring Eagle Championship title even mean if you can't beat the best to become the best. You think you can run? You think the worst is far behind, huh. Think again.. Y'know I had no idea "heroes" were known to give up at the first sign of resistance.. at the first taste of adversity. Your experience here has been padded. You're not seeking out the highest level of competition so much as insulating yourself from any real form of confrontation or challenge. You cultivate this false image of progress through struggle. You don't redefine hard work, you're not some altruistic hero champ like you lead others to believe. You stand on the back of others. The rest of us contribute. You stay at home nursing your wounds while we fight through ours night in and night out.. You sift through the ash and make a living feeding off the bones of GOL, just camped out, in for a long arduous haul. But, as Jason Voorhees would attest.. there's nothing more satisfying than taking out a camper..
HWC: After besting me I don't want to hear that there's no magic in this world because you David Copperfielded me, bigly. I honestly don't know what happened in the last match. I'm reminded of Thomas Wayne, who said to young Batman, 'Why do we fall? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.' Lesson learned. Maybe I got too wrapped up in what I could take from you. Now, I'm only concerned with what I can give to you..a beating you won't soon forget. But now isn't the time for more half measures, idle threats and empty promises. Now's the time to put up or shut up. It's time for action so I'll let mine speak for themselves. And whoever said a picture was worth a thousand words is about to see just how badly they miscounted..
HWC: I’m right here.. for now.. and I've still got a few bullets in my belt..one that drifts like snow, one that shifts like sand and another that settles like dust. And if you try to run again, I've got six little friends and they can all run faster than you can. And this time I will not forget the face of my father. I will not aim with my hand; I'll aim with my eye. I will not shoot with my hand; I'll shoot with my mind. And I will not kill with this gun; I'll kill with my heart. But fear not Mickey Mouse Club.. what doesn't kill you, simply makes you...STRANGER.
HWC: Bending his ear toward the smoking pistol in his hand.. Wait a sec, did you hear that? Is that you makin' all that noise, killer? I think this ol' pistol has something to say, let's listen in!
"PISTOL": Deliver a message when the time comes.
HWC: To who?
"PISTOL": The WICKED. Tell them, 'Though thou exalt thyself like the eagle, though thou make thy nest among the stars, thence will I bring thee down, sayeth the Lord.'
TR chuckles behind the handheld as Sawtooth steps onto the scene.
GRIN: Diamond Dragon? You seem like a good ol' boy and we like ya. You're a threat and it'd be foolish to think otherwise. Twenty-three years is insane, boss. You're a true veteran of the sport without question, and we got mad respect for you. I know you've had a chance to square off with some legit talent while you've been shackin' up here. Most notably that UNO! DOS! TRES! brawl just last month - where you were pit against Juliet Brooks, Mark Storm, and GOL hall o' famer Tiger Mask Red.. It can't be denied, you've been tested during your time in this wacky promotion.
GRIN: Problem is.. I just got done going to war with a buncha maniacs in the Caged Glory Dragon's Way tourney, and dug deep all the way to the final battle - where I lost a highly suspect split decision.. The fuckin' main event at the Tokyo dome, amigo. I'm sure the magnitude of my situation isn't lost on you; you ain't no dummy, you can appreciate my state of my mind comin' into this scrap.
Getting closer to the lens, Sawtooth shows off his war wounds
GRIN: My face looks like I've been mauled by a bear, my right eye is for the most part, swollen shut.. I got welts on my legs from enduring an evening's worth of kicks; my ribs are bruised; my body aches; my head is pounding, and I'm STILL pullin' dried blood out of my ears. And since this little failed crusade of mine only took place a laborious bloody piss ago, as I'm sure you could imagine, the pain is really beginning to settle. It's unbecoming I know.. but honestly, I'm in a horrid, horrid mood.. and you and big wheel Roxi are standing in between me, and an extremely well deserved forty-eight hour slumber.
GRIN: Putting on killer shows is always a priority, but I'm not tryin' to get comfortable in there with you guys. I don't want a long night.. I'm good on that. Hopefully when that initial bell rings, and you're introduced to the surgical cooperative grappling clinic that is The Outliers, it'll push you to panic and we can all go our separate ways...
His eyes get big and he shrugs before winking at his partner and moving on.
GRIN: Nah, I know we gotta get down in it.. Still, for obvious selfish reasons, I hope for a quick finish, but that's just me. Reasonable guesstimation, though? Our unconventional movement and angles will confuse you and from there you'll be buried under the relentless pressure we're known for... and geez.. with this being a street fight, it would appear you strangers were just dropped off in the wrong neighborhood too, huh? I think it's just gonna be too much.. we're always too much, and I can say with the utmost conviction that we're one of the most vicious, wily duos on the fuckin' scene and when it's all said and done, whatever you guys bring ain't gonna be enough to sew it up.
Tunnel Rat suddenly abandons the feed and shouts out to the brothers in arms, babbling about propane cannisters!
TR: You guys sure know how to throw some lead down range! Damn. Okay, this is the grand finale, who's gonna take the shot?
HWC: We're gonna count it down and take it together.
GRIN: Let's skin these Smoke Wagons and see what happens!
TR: Alright here we go.. Five!
THE OUTLIERS: And Shepherds we shall be for thee, my Lord, for thee.
TR: Four!
THE OUTLIERS: Power hath descended forth from thy hand so our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands.
TR: Three!
THE OUTLIERS: So we shall flow a river forth to thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be.
TR: Two!
THE OUTLIERS: In Nomeni Patri,
TR: One!
THE OUTLIERS: Et Fili Spiritus Sancti.
And BOOM! Presto k-blammo.
TR: So it's gonna be a good show I bet..I have no doubt there'll be plenty pyrotechnics..
GRIN: Yeah, nothing like what we witnessed here today, but yeah.. there'll be lots of fire.. but not in the traditional sense.. more of in the spiritual sense...
TR: Ah yes, the fire within..
HWC: Yeah, the fire within.. the flame still burns inside--which is the part that won’t let us walk away from trouble.
As the fog of war clears and the sun sets, everything at the range is either in pieces or on fire. A blaze of glory; mission accomplished. Target destroyed, another target destroyed..The Outliers cut out for Dodge City at first light to join up with Wyatt Earp. So to tell 'em they're comin'... and hell's comin' with 'em! See you space cowboys...