I avoid the range. Mainly due to trenchcoat mafia teens at the bench with their tacticool fire breavin' dragon 870 pumps. Or Cobra Commando Jack with his 3 suitcased ARs showering others with hot brass. Beyond that, it's numbnut nimrods clanking and banging their gear on the bench, so much so that it introduces error into your own shooting.
I started heading to the state forest with another campfire member. It's quiet, we bring tables and shoot all day for free. He can't go to the range because he has a flaming case of especially excitable PTSD. (I hope he sees this, he stalks my posts)
however he doesn't milk the chit outta his condition with his hand outstretched to the VA like some of the typical "potato peelers".
fugging remfs crying ptsd chit to unca suga
fugging therapy dogs all over the fugging place
come on over to my place I will introduce the fuggers to some therapy dogs
fugging dv license plates
fugging dropping the "I have ptsd" chit in conversations when they work the gullibles to their advantage
fuggers work the va system like niqqers on the welfare system
lots of fuggers playing the ptsd system for the most part
aint no fugging way I would tell some va shrink anygawtdamn thing about anything I done or seen.
