Mosinowner
Grandmaster
- Aug 1, 2011
- 5,927
- 38
Soft yellow balls is an indication of an urgent need to see a medical professional...
It's the internet. They've already seen everything and if they decide they want to see something it's quicker and easier to type it and watch someone else take the risk....I say to my wife all the time, " I cant relate to my son, he is so calm and polite, he plays video games on sunny days," I have 11 acres backing up to Silver Creek which is a large creek, and he wants to play inside. I have said I wish he would go melt some action figures with my gasoline or try to steal my cigarettes, something I can understand. I mean yeah I will be pissed when I caught him burning his name in the yard or sick from smoking a cigarette, but I could actually say to myself, " yeah thats what little boys do."
Decent quality airsoft replicas will certainly motivate someone to not get shot. They're common for force-on-force and tactics training because they're (relatively) inexpensive and more readily available than simunitions. You also don't need the same level of protective gear.
In August I was in a tactics class with Louis Awerbuck. I got tagged at least a dozen times during the first three scenarios (I got lucky in the 4th!). All but one of them broke the skin. All but one of those was through a tshirt and one took a little chunk of meat out of my bare forearm.
Most people who dismiss the pain motivator of airsoft have either never used gas powered replicas or they wore heavy clothing and gloves (which defeats the purpose in my opinion) so they didn't feel much of it.
This thread reminds me of this:
Around age 10 my dad got me one of those little badass compound bow beginner kits. Of course, the first month I went around our land sticking arrows in anything that could get stuck by an arrow. Did you know that a 1955 40 horse Farmall tractor tire will take 6 rounds before it goes down? Tough sumbich.
That got boring, so being the 10 yr. old Dukes of Hazard fan that I was, I quickly advanced to taking strips of cut up T-shirt doused in chainsaw gas tied around the end and was sending flaming arrows all over the place. One summer afternoon, I was shooting flaming arrows into a large rotten oak stump in our backyard. I looked over under the carport and see a shiny brand new can of starting fluid (Ether). The light bulb went off in my head. I grabbed the can and set it on the stump. I thought that it would probably just spray out in a disappointing manner. Lets face it, to a 10 yr old mouth-breather like myself, (Ether), really doesn't "sound" flammable. So, I went back into the house and got a 1 pound can of pyrodex (black powder for muzzle loader rifles).
At this point, I set the can of ether on the stump and opened up the can of black powder. My intentions were to sprinkle a little bit around the (Ether) can but it all sorta dumped out on me. No biggie, a 1 lb. pyrodex and 16 oz (Ether) should make a loud pop, kinda like a firecracker you know? You know what? Screw that I'm going back in the house for the other can.
Yes, I got a second can of pyrodex and dumped it too. Now we're cookin'.
I stepped back about 15 ft and lit the 2 stroke arrow. I drew the nock to my cheek and took aim. As I released I heard a clunk as the arrow launched from my bow. In a slow motion time frame, I turned to see my dad getting out of the truck... OH S&*T! He just got home from work. So help me God it took 10 minutes for that arrow to go from my bow to the can. My dad was walking towards me in slow motion with a WTF look in his eyes. I turned back towards my target just in time to see the arrow pierce the starting fluid can right at the bottom. Right through the main pile of pyrodex and into the can. Oh S**t.
When the shock wave hit it knocked me off my feet. I don't know if it was the actual compression wave that threw me back or just reflex jerk back from 235 fricking decibels of sound. I caught a half a millisecond glimpse of the violence during the initial explosion and I will tell you there was dust, grass, and bugs all hovering 1 ft above the ground as far as I could see. It was like a little low to the ground layer of dust fog full of grasshoppers, spiders, and a worm or two.
The daylight turned purple. Let me repeat this... THE FRICKING DAYLIGHT TURNED PURPLE.
There was a big sweetgum tree out by the gate going into the pasture. Notice I said "was". That son-of-a-bi**h got up and ran off.
So here I am, on the ground blown completely out of my shoes with my thundercats T-Shirt shredded, my dad is on the other side of the carport having what I can only assume is a Vietnam flashback:
ECHO BRAVO CHARLIE YOU'RE BRINGIN' EM IN TOO CLOSE!! CEASE FIRE. DAMNIT CEASE FIRE!!!!!
His hat has blown off and is 30 ft behind him in the driveway. All windows on the north side of the house are blown out and there is a slow rolling mushroom cloud about 2000 ft. over our backyard. There is a Honda 185 3 wheeler parked on the other side of the yard and the fenders are drooped down and are now touching the tires..
I wish I knew what I said to my dad at this moment. I don't know - I know I said something. I couldn't hear. I couldn't hear inside my own head. I don't think he heard me either... not that it would really matter. I don't remember much from this point on. I said something, felt a sharp pain, and then woke up later. I felt a sharp pain, blacked out, woke later....repeat this process for an hour or so and you get the idea. I remember at one point my mom had to give me CPR. and Dad screaming "Bring him back to life so I can kill him again". Thanks Mom.
One thing is for sure... I never had to mow around that stump again, Mom had been *****ing about that thing for years and dad never did anything about it. I stepped up to the plate and handled business.
Dad sold his muzzle loader a week later. I still have some sort of bone growth abnormality, either from the blast or the beating, or both.
I guess what I'm trying to say is, get your kids into archery. It's good discipline and will teach them skills they can use later on in life.
reminds me of that 1 time.my version of "air-soft" as a kid was pushing a q-tip down the muzzle of my daisy 860. lots of fun shooting each other in the house. outside it was bb's; when we were being nice, it was limited to 2 or 3 pumps. long range or revenge shots called for 10 pumps.
back in i think '02 or '03, i went to the urgent care with a nagging chest cold. this was the year of SARS, and i think the doctor was determined to diagnose the first case of it in north carolina. i had to get a chest x-ray in the office, and looking at the films, the nurse asked me if i wore a necklace during the x-ray. i told her no, and she then asked me if i'd ever been shot. i said no (thinking of actual firearms), then remembered and said "well, my sister shot me in the chest with a bb gun when we were kids." she replied, "it's still in there." one bright shiny dot on the film. they said that if it hasn't given me any trouble by now, it probably never will.
note to any zombie or cannibal that may overtake me; chew my left pectoral carefully, you don't want to break a tooth on an embedded bb.