I figured if I were going to get it, it would be with a hand grenade, most likely my own.
I’m on the grenade range at Fort Knox. They say pull the pin and throw it like a baseball. I pulled the pin and threw it like a high fly. About half way down, it blew. Let’s just say the grenade sergeant was a little upset.
The next one slipped out of my hand. I was trying to throw a slider. The concussion made a day of it for us.
Strange thing, they never asked me back. Word went around that Hollybush was deadlier than the Viet Cong.
I’ve had dreams about this. I pull the pin, drop it on my foot and cannot find it. We all know what happens next. Some people have nightmares about forgetting their high-school locker number. Mine are different, a blinding flash ending in a cold sweat.
So this week, I was reading about India’s new hand grenade. It doesn’t kill anybody. That’s the good part. The bad part is you’ll wish you were dead.
They’ve been working for years on a hand grenade that incapacitates without lethality, something pacifist Ghandi would praise; my cuppa tea.
Time magazine reports the Indians are weaponizing their most famous chili pepper. Pull the pin, toss it and run like crazy to the nearest kulfi stand (that’s ice cream).
Instead of high explosive, the grenade is packed with something worse, high-grade Naga Jolokia. Guinness says it’s the world’s hottest pepper, a million Scoville heat units.
I have personal experience here. In my desk drawer is a Tupperware tub with enough Naga Jolokia to end all wars. Take a whiff. Instant nose waterfall followed by a numbing heat sear.
The pepper is named for Naga, an Indian state that produces fierce warriors. They prove their manhood eating Jolokia, but they cry a lot.
A friend of mine bought it on the Internet. He deemed it way too dangerous for his kitchen. I’d been bragging how much I love hot food, my mistake.
It’s been in my desk for a year. I get an occasional toxic whiff searching for a pen, a little shock and awe to get me going in the morning. Tupperware is no match for the world’s hottest pepper.
You never can tell when you need a weapon powerful enough to take down the town.
I’m assuming the CIA boys have it. If not, hey, I’m in the phone book.
I’m on the grenade range at Fort Knox. They say pull the pin and throw it like a baseball. I pulled the pin and threw it like a high fly. About half way down, it blew. Let’s just say the grenade sergeant was a little upset.
The next one slipped out of my hand. I was trying to throw a slider. The concussion made a day of it for us.
Strange thing, they never asked me back. Word went around that Hollybush was deadlier than the Viet Cong.
I’ve had dreams about this. I pull the pin, drop it on my foot and cannot find it. We all know what happens next. Some people have nightmares about forgetting their high-school locker number. Mine are different, a blinding flash ending in a cold sweat.
So this week, I was reading about India’s new hand grenade. It doesn’t kill anybody. That’s the good part. The bad part is you’ll wish you were dead.
They’ve been working for years on a hand grenade that incapacitates without lethality, something pacifist Ghandi would praise; my cuppa tea.
Time magazine reports the Indians are weaponizing their most famous chili pepper. Pull the pin, toss it and run like crazy to the nearest kulfi stand (that’s ice cream).
Instead of high explosive, the grenade is packed with something worse, high-grade Naga Jolokia. Guinness says it’s the world’s hottest pepper, a million Scoville heat units.
I have personal experience here. In my desk drawer is a Tupperware tub with enough Naga Jolokia to end all wars. Take a whiff. Instant nose waterfall followed by a numbing heat sear.
The pepper is named for Naga, an Indian state that produces fierce warriors. They prove their manhood eating Jolokia, but they cry a lot.
A friend of mine bought it on the Internet. He deemed it way too dangerous for his kitchen. I’d been bragging how much I love hot food, my mistake.
It’s been in my desk for a year. I get an occasional toxic whiff searching for a pen, a little shock and awe to get me going in the morning. Tupperware is no match for the world’s hottest pepper.
You never can tell when you need a weapon powerful enough to take down the town.
I’m assuming the CIA boys have it. If not, hey, I’m in the phone book.