California on fire.

It's Sunday and there isn't a whole lot going on, so I am going to speculate on the latest rash of wildfires to plague Northern California. Since yesterday there are up to 500 fires burning, some that have caused home/property damage. This happens every year, yet it seems no one learns anything from it. My theory is that the environmentalist movement is backfiring. Those who have screamed so loudly about leaving nature alone are now reaping the benefits. Nature left alone produces an incredible amount of combustible material that has been building up for years. Add urban sprawl and hot dry temperatures into the equation, and voila! a recipe for disaster! Someone flicks a cigarette butt out the window of their car into the dry grass and brush in the ditch and suddenly there is a fire. This particular scenario typically occurs in the urban environment. In yesterday's case, there were thunderstorms and the lightning kicked off many of the fires. Fortunately, most of these are in more remote areas. What kills me is hearing the so called environmentalists complaining about it all. If they would actually do their homework, they would know that fire is natures method of cleaning house. That's my rant for the day, now on to something else.

I have searched my archives (old computer disks and my thumb drive) and have found another story that took place in Rice Lake and involved most of the same people talked about in my previous post regarding "4BH." This particular story chronicles our last day in the apartment. We were moving out and some of the girls we knew who were staying in the area were moving in. Enjoy.

It was a beautiful spring day and the apartment was full of activity. School was over and everyone was busy getting things packed up and moved out. There was a lull in the frantic activity and two of the number (Ben and Axel) in the apartment known as 4BH retired to the roof with an air rifle to stalk unsuspecting prey below on the street. It was warm and pleasant so the wait wasn’t very tedious. Eventually a car came around the corner and the mighty hunters recognized the occupant as a likely target. As the unsuspecting individual (Jeff, the Ham) stepped out of the car, the mighty hunters began to snicker mischievously under their breath. One of them grabbed the rifle and charged the CO2 up and waited for the target to come in range. As the target, dressed as usual, in cut off sweat pants and ragged moth eaten penny loafers with no socks, came into range, the shooter took careful aim and slowly squeezed the trigger. The rifle gave off a short staccato bark that echoed across the rooftop and the buildings around! The target's leg shot out from under him as the well placed shot struck right on the gluteus maximus. A loud howl of pain and rage erupted from the target and he quickly regained his wits and scurried toward the door looking over his shoulder for another ambush. Meanwhile, the mighty hunters scrambled inside, knowing that the target would soon be in hot pursuit! They quickly stashed the rifle between the mattresses on one of the beds as the target came storming up the stairs with speed that belied his significant bulk. All the way up he shouted words that would make a veteran Marine DI blush with shame. The target never did find the rifle, and never figured out who the sniper was for sure, although he had a very good idea. To my knowledge the target never got his revenge for this particular incident, but it has provided us all with many good laughs. I hope you have enjoyed this little piece of 4BH history.