Sunday, October 12, 2014

Adrenaline Junkie

Yesterday I fell out of an airplane.
While it was flying.
On purpose.
I've got the story and the documentation to prove it.

It started a few months ago when I discovered that Heather, a sales rep that works with our business, has a pilot's license and several jumps under her belt.

Full disclosure: it actually started 21 years ago when I learned how to ride a bicycle, and therefore began to speed on things with wheels.

I asked Heather to let me know when the next jump would be happening. A month ago, she informed me that some of her friends were getting a group together to skydive. "Are you still interested?" She asked me. "Ab. So. Lutely." I replied.

I was contacted by Heather's friend Kathy, one of the jumpers. Over the phone, she sounded completely thrilled that I was joining. Perhaps because my interest confirmed that there were other humans as crazy as herself. The fact that I made the group large enough to get a discounted rate was a bonus. Kathy informed me that "Kathy, spelled with a C" was in charge of the group. I talked with Cathy and found her to be just as exuberant about skydiving as Kathy was. Cathy informed me that I could bring along a friend if I wanted, so I set out to find someone as wantonly reckless as myself.

My friend Anne has been laboring away at the University of Iowa for quite some time, and I determined that she could use a break from her studies. What better way to relax than to get thrown out of an airplane? I imagine there are various alternative activities you would recommend, dear reader, but then you're most likely not a Graber. I asked Anne if she wanted to join, and she replied, "I would totally go but I should perhaps converse with my parents. They might be concerned for my safety." An excellent course of action, and one that I deliberately avoided because my parents are always concerned for my safety, so why bother them with additional worries?

You'd never suspect that Anne is a borderline 
maniac, but then you'd be wrong.

Thursday, October 9, 2014

Gun Buyback

Firearms are a sticky subject nowadays and I understand if you don't like firearms. I receive shivers in the presence of ceramic clowns, so I know that inanimate objects can make one feel uncomfortable.
Terribly uncomfortable.

For many years, cities all over the United States have offered Gun Buyback programs where your surrendered firearm will earn you a gift card for fuel or groceries. These buybacks, hosted by police stations, have become more frequent since the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary and the theater in Aurora, Colorado. The premise is that if there are less guns on the street, there will be less robbery and homicide. For many, the idea seems brilliant. "Less guns = less crime and sadness!" They proclaim.

In 2012 (the year of the Sandy Hook shooting), there were 625 murders committed with shotguns and rifles.
That's a lot.

In 2012, there were 1,196 murders committed with hammers and fists.
That's a lot.

As a Christian, I understand that man's thoughts are wicked, and without the redemption of Jesus Christ, people will do terrible things to other people. They'll just keep on doing those terrible things with whatever tool or object they have at hand. Uh, pun not intended.

As a Graber, I understand that guns can be used for harm, but they are tools. No more, no less. Like a golf club or a baseball bat or a screwdriver or one of those teeny little brushes that puts on mascara. Guns used properly (I am reluctant to use the word "recreationally" because that makes guns sound like marijuana) can be a whole lot of fun.

Where was I? Oh yes, gun buybacks. Bring all your unwanted firearms and ammunition to the police station, and exchange them for some gift cards******!
*Ammunition will be accepted for surrender, but will not qualify for a gift card.
**One gift card per person, regardless of the amount of firearms surrendered.
***The surrendered firearms cannot have been previously stolen.