Laughter: Nervous, or the other kind
A bunch of clicking around lead me two places today; at one, Joe and I read the rules for safely putting on an event like the Boomershoot fireball – something about the minimum safe distance for a 14 pound shot being 500 feet or something. Nervous laughter.
The other said some guy set the world’s record for the longest wall of fire in 2007 at HUF; I can hardly let this aggression stand. Also learned he used about a gallon per five feet of firewall; we used 13 gallons in three feet. Might have to work on that, but it brought out the other kind of laughter, for sure. Giggles here, but at John said, it was more a wall of smoke, not fire.
The other day, I laid a number of grave insults at Joe’s feet regarding one of his rifles; I expect I’m going to get payback at some point. We both laughed. Nervously, or the other kind, or perhaps a third kind? We’ll see; I’ve certainly never done anything mockable with any of my rifles, a dremel, and a devil-may-care attitude. Joe’s defense is it was his first rifle; my first rifle was shamefully fucked up by yours truly, so, you know, goose, gander, assemble.
