So I went to Gander Mt. today (on the way to the range) and, of course, I’m in the kilt. Today’s was the choco-Workman (kinda like this, but not black), thankyouverymuch.

While at Gander Mt., I noticed that they’re now stocking a large assortment of 5.11 Tacticool garments, so I browse the wares. While browsing, a small group of five mouth-breathers presumably on a shopping expedition from their hunting trip notice the kilt, encircle us about 20 ft away, and unleash with Teh Stoopid. There were lots of remarks in a short period, but one that stuck in my head was, “little faggot in a skirt”.

Uh-huh.

Little? Perhaps — I’m only 5′ 7″.

Faggot? Nope. I’m quite hetero, thanks.

Skirt? Well, it’s called a kilt. If I wore something under it, then it would be a skirt.

So, here’s the tip, lads: if you’re intent on picking a fight, perhaps you should exercise a bit more caution in your victim selection. You see, what you failed to realize is that while the “little faggot in a skirt” remained extremely calm but made eye contact with each of you and was very aware of exactly where each of you were standing and that each of you were openly armed with various knives, he was also very well-prepared to defend himself and his nearly adult-son from five very large, armed assailants:

50 rds each 45 & 9mm, 15 ft., Mozambique drills.

—

Home, home on the range
Where the nines and the 45s play