Out of Pod Experience

Well looking at welding classes, seems interesting. It's odd, I work on designs for welds and bolting, but have never actually done it myself. I just take a column and an I beam and connect them into a single entity. This may turn out to be the best piece of advice I've been given if that certificate ends up on my CV....

Sorry to sound like a rusty record, but I'm a noob surrounded by intelligent experienced people and I feel it's a waste not to try and get some of that wisdom

It's a good question.

I think the answer to that is found in this game, in the never ending struggle of those who want the rules changed to suit their weaknesses and those who are ready to adapt.

As for this British game of "Fox and Hounds", the closest thing I could think of was a game (named might differ by region) called "Kill the guy with the ball". Simple and to the point. If you had the ball, everybody was out to dogpile you. If you gave up the ball, someone else got it, and then he was the target. If you had a chance to get the ball but didn't pick it up, insults and dishonor would be heaped upon your name probably until you left for college years later (or so it seemed at that time).

Puh-leese. Dispense with the political correctness; We're all adults here. The game is properly called 'Smear the Queer.' If you had the ball, you were the 'queer' - and every hand was against you. When you went down under the pile of bodies, everyone was trying to wrest the ball away, and run with it - There's pride and honor in being the last one to be holding the ball when the recess whistle blows, and everyone has to go inside. Being the last 'queer' was like being King.
Until next recess...


Good, hard, brutal fun. No one ever broke a bone - that *I* know of, anyway - But many a fat lip and blacked eye happened. And parents would look at the grass stains, scrapes, and bruises and go about their day. They knew what you'd been up to, and it was so normal as to be beneath comment. You learned where you were in the pecking order, without any need for bullying - It got out the aggressive urges, and if the skinny runt managed to sneak a win, well, more power to him - He'd done it on a level playing field, and had earned it.

Edit:
Clearly "Queer" has become a dirty word. It means "one who is different from the rest." And it is in that vein that the game was played - Not calling each other homos, but the guy with the ball was the odd one, and just like in any group-based social structure, the one who stands out is the target of all. The game taught us, among other things, that being successful at being 'different' was hard, but worthy. Of course, it also taught us that being the odd man out was hard and painful, too. But that's a true life lesson also, is it not?

Kicking was considered effete. Proper play was to get right into the middle of things. Arm and head locks, elbows to the face and ribs, and the good ol' fashioned head-first flying gang-tackle. Your typical rugby player would recognize it immediately, save for the lack of team play.

No laps for not getting dirty, but if you didn't do *something* that made you a mess, your social standing plummeted. Social pressure is a stone ***** to evade. Tether-ball was a popular alternative. The real object was to get the ball moving fast enough to smack the other player in the face. Or clothes-line them. Bonus points if you knocked them to the pavement. Plus, that was one of the few games where it was fair to hit a girl. Of course, they hit back... and hard.Hell, even four-square turned into a contact sport.


Edit:
The runner in S-the-Q could get away with clipping people with his feet - He's running after all, so it's going to happen.
Also: S-the-Q played in the snow is much more brutal than any other kids' game I know. When your body parts are right on the verge of frostbite, impacts hurt in a way you can't expect until it happens to you the first time.

More edit:
Almost forgot about King-of-the-Hill, and its more brutal cousin: King-of-the-Hill played on bare iron monkey bars. Over pavement.

Come to think of it, by today's standards, it's amazing any of us lived. On the other hand, broken bones were rare and fascinating things - they almost never happened, and never at school - Skiing, or rock-climbing, or horseback riding... those the kinds of things that busted limbs. Not school play.

Paintball with Marines is fun, there is no "out" and no one stops shooting.... ever

No it's not. It's a tried-n-true method of achieving compliance. Hell, my wrestling coach (We still love, hate, and fear you, Coach Chek!) taught a move that was essentially a barely-legal open-palm strike to the 'nards. Opposing teams learned to do a jock-check before a match with us!

S-the-Q has no teams - everyone against the Q, then everyone after the ball, in that order. If you elbow-shot someone on the way into a pile, well, that was fine. Just weren't suppoesed to do it whilst up and running. Unless you had the ball - In which case hammer away. No fist strikes 'cause that wasn't playing, that was fighting.

Nice.
Crossman 760s. Everyone had 'em - Supposedly a five-pump rule, but every so often you'd hear someone behind a bush pumping away; >Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<>Clack!<

Paintball markers saved more than a bit of blood.


Yup. Especially so with the Crossman rifles. Even though we all wore paint goggles. Just wasn't done.
I once nailed a guy in the face with a paintball, purely by accident, and I still feel pretty bad about it to this day. Good mid-torso shot, but the ball was out of round, and arced right up and drilled him just under the rim of his mask.

I wonder if a group of Romans before it all got pillaged had similar conversations on the youth being too soft and ill disciplined?

*looks around*

What? Im just er... taking my Colours for a walk with 50,000 of my closest and dearest friends.

Are we playing March of the Grenadiers too loudly?

For the ultimate in brutal childhood entertainment, we used to play a game at school called "Death Square" ( I know, sounds really cuddly and fluffy doesn't it?).

Basically the Death Square arena was a section of concrete next to the sports hall, with steps leading down from one side of the square, a wall with a low roof (10ft) directly opposite. The other 2 sides of the square were the really tall walls of the sports hall and the school hall directly opposite each other. The 2 tall walls had 3 windows on each with stone windowsills approx 8 ft above the ground.

The object of the game was to pass a football (the spherical kind) around the square between usually 5-10 players. you were only allowed to touch the ball with your feet ( nothing else allowed not even legs). If the ball touched you anywhere other than your feet you were "IT" and every other player would be free to kick seven shades of crap out of you until you were able to touch one of the windowsills mentioned earlier. as we were only around 11-12 years old at the time, the only way we could reach the windows was to jump kick off the wall.

If the ball touched the wall or rolled down the steps then the player who kicked it was "IT", unless it was felt that the person they passed it to didn't put enough effort into stopping it with his feet. so basically if you kicked the ball at someone and hit them, they were it, if you tried to kick it at them and missed, you were it. If it was felt you had let the ball go, you were it.

The real fun was if someone managed to kick the ball onto the roof, or it bounced off someone and landed on the roof. When this happened you had to climb up and get it back and then run the "death tunnel" ( We were so imaginative with names). You had to go get the ball first as there was no guarantee that you would be in any fit shape to climb up after the death tunnel.

The death tunnel was formed by the other players stood in front of the wall with both hands placed flat against it. The lucky boy had to duck down and run through the tunnel while being kicked or kneed to death. hands had to remain on the wall so no grabbing. If you went slowly you got a damn fine kicking but could usually at least stay on your feet. If you ran fast to try and avoid a kicking, you ran the risk of someone tripping you up. Having been the recipient of many a stamping due to this, i can assure you it is rather unpleasant.

We used to finish playtimes covered in bruises, many a skinned knee or split lip. All i can say is, thank the sweet zombie jesus we were friends or it could have turned nasty.

Clearly, you're without a frame of reference. I don't expect you to understand it. Just know that from where we sit, you're are also without anything constructive to say for that lack of a frame of reference.

It's not redcoats we fear. Its our own government. We've rebelled against it repeatedly, and whilst the 'government' has won every confrontation, government policy has lost every time save once (the American Civil War).

Whiskey rebelion - Against George Washington's administration. George was forced to send peace negotiatiors, coundn't find the rebels despite calling up the militia, and no one was ever sent to jail - Nor was the tax collected. Jefferson repealed it.

Colorado Mineworkers strike - The Government, at the behest of the mine owners machine-gunned strikers and their families. But the resulting firefight and national horror crippled the mine owners political prestiege, and started the UMWA's roll.

Matewan/Blair Mountain - Again, the strikers came off second best, but the mining unions finally got their power legitimized. Coal mine owners haven't had a moment's peace since.

The list continues - Wounded Knee, Alcatraz, Ruby ridge, Waco, many more beyond. Repeatedly armed confrontations have resulted in changes of government policy. Hell, even those assholes from MOVE helped change government policy and behavior.


Yup. We love our guns - With them, we can change government policy, and we've done so.

In regards to children, you're exactly wrong.
Childhood is the absolute best time to teach firearms, marksmanship, and firearms safety. Children absorb things much less critically, and have few things to 'un-learn.' The Five Rules* sink in and stay put for life when taught to children. children learn to respect the weapon and what it can do - that lesson also stays put.
This presumes of course, that the parents aren't idiots.


You know the category of armed person who scares me most? A firghtened liberal adult. You can reasonably expect that they don't understand weapons, don't know the safety rules, and think of the weapon as a 'magic wand.' It's not magic - It's a tool for amplifying personal power - IF used correctly. You can also pretty much count on a frightened adult liberal to NOT get the necessary training to learn at the properly instinctive level the things they don't yet understand. If they do understand weapons, they're not afraid, and I don't fear them.


*The Five Rules:
1) The gun is ALWAYS loaded - unless you're looking at an empty chamber right now. And even then, it's still loaded.
2) NEVER let the muzzle cover anything you're not willing to destroy.
3) NEVER place your finger inside teh trigger guard until ready to fire.
4) KNOW your target, and what's beyond it.
5) NEVER trust the 'Safety' - it's a mechanical device, and can fail.