Number two... I'm Learning What to Do

Now I see that some people have seen what I say. What a great total of eight people including me... what a busy week. Anyway... I thought I would propose an interesting question to all whose eyes lay upon this. I long ago thought of a simple theory of combat. I think that one bullet, perfectly placed can destroy any target. The Death Star had the thermal exhaust port, older tanks had the viewing hole, people have their head, vampires (though requiring blessings and silver) have the heart, Koshchei has the needle inside of the egg, Davy Jones has the heart, and any vehicle with one has the fuel tank. Bullet sizes may need to change based on target. A derringer would not take out... anything really while a 20mm rifle has a good shot at nearly any target if you get it in the right place. If you want to tell me what you think or ask me my thoughts on any topic (unless it is something like social security number or mother's maiden name... anything else is fine), then go ahead and leave a comment.

The First of Many... I Hope

This is my first post in a blog... how strange. Anyway this new medium for my thoughts needs a warning.

Warning: Ideas may be considered very odd and some flat out disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.

Now that that is out of the way, I can tell you my encouragement since I will read as many comments as I can. You can ask me my thoughts on ANY question. If you really want to know what I think, ask. No matter how strange it is, I will answer honestly. When I say anything... I mean ANYTHING as long as it does not reveal something extremely personal. And I mean EXTREMELY personal. I myself will post some strange questions for your consideration in due time, and post some of this strange stuff I have written. Here is a free verse poem that I needed to write for a class, it is called Chicken Lover:
Your lovely white eggs,
So ovalish and large,
Covered with your smooth, supple, white feathers,
And even though I've known you for so long,
You're still my little chick,
Your beak so large and lovely,
Having the perfect shade of color,
You still refuse my proposals to go out to dinner,
Especially to KFC,
For fear you would not return,
Still living with your sisters,
Who would attack me on sight after the ;scrambling' incident,
Should never have cooked their young,
Especially in front of them,
In their house,
Where you live,
But our love will survive even though your brother hates me,
Doesn't want me to visit the sister he so loves,
But my chicks will be okay, won't they?
Keep them from your family,
They don't like me,
Something about 'not being like them',
No feathers, no beak, no wings, but still...
Cock a doodle doo!
I'm coming for my family and you,
With their small, yellow bodies and high pitched chirps,
And you my beautiful chicken. Ba-gawk.