Word: shoot
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...wanted to do with myself for the next 72 hours. As luck would have it, while in the midst of the ritual Thursday night drinkfest, I ran into a friend of mine. He invited me to join a group to go on a daytrip up to Manchester, N.H., to shoot various handguns and machine guns. No, he wasn’t dressed in army fatigues or preparing for Armageddon much like those punk kids in the pit, but rather he was a quiet, unassuming nice guy who you’d envision more at home on the links than shooting...
...Postal Service employee (in full uniform) was exiting the shooting range and heading for his car, a sight which led to an enduring “going postal” joke. More fearful of the other clients than the weapons themselves, I entered Wolf’s to be engulfed by the din of shots being fired. Working behind the counter was a pudgy 16-year-old who was in the middle of the process of instructing some other clients on how to handle an Uzi. As I looked around, I saw every gun imaginable. From the Dirty Harry revolver...
...quick form (name, address, are you a mental patient?) and show him our licenses. Conveniently, my friend forgot his license but his Harvard ID worked just fine (but for some reason, it still doesn’t get him into the Grille). The first gun we decided to shoot was the 9mm Glock, a sleek black gun that is universally praised for its ultra-reliable nature (it can be shot underwater), and its light weight. After purchasing some bullets and receiving the appropriate eye and ear protection, we made our way though a set of double doors and into...
...Once we found our assigned line, or shooting position, we sent out a paper target of a human silhouette (they were out of the hostage situation ones) and loaded the clip. Being an amateur, I let my friend shoot first. He might has well have been blind. After unloading a clip into everywhere but the target and managing to shatter a supposedly bulletproof ceiling panel, my friend resigned and it was my turn. I began by shooting a few misplaced shots in the chest and the head but my aim quickly improved...
...farmers have to take her advice? Ironically, the value of cheetahs to trophy hunters could help the cat population as a whole--as long as the hunting is controlled. Farmers learned that if they allowed hunters on part of their land, they could make money from the occasional shooting of a cheetah, but made nothing if they kept killing the cats themselves. Meanwhile, Marker helped encourage the Namibia Professional Hunters' Association to enforce strict limits on the number of cheetahs shot. The logic was simple: shoot too many cheetahs now and there won't be any to shoot later...