THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GENE!

I’ve done many things. I served in the Navy (Navy Corpsman ‘85 – ‘95 – Active duty till ‘91, reserves for the remainder). I worked in an Emergency and Trauma room (’Started in ‘89 but got recalled for Operation Desert Shield and Desert Storm… Started again in ‘91 until ‘96). I started Bounty Hunting in ‘93 and became a licensed bail agent in ‘95. Started working full time as a bail agent towards the end of ‘96 and opened my own company in ‘00.   I am a Scoutmaster for my son’s Boyscout Troop.  I’ve been working as a private investigator for the past couple of years and plan on opening my own PI company sometime this year (’07).   I did open my own Investigation company in January of 2008 (www.ca-investigations.com). But the jobs I am most proud of are being the best father and the best husband I can be.

June 20, 2007

Ok Bro (He really is my brother, but for security reasons he will hence forth be identified as Bro), here is your Gene and the Bear story I mentioned below.

E-5 A-C Current

EXPERIMENT

Date Performed: March 30, 1993

The objective of this experiment is to gain necessary experience to bullshit a response in the form of a technical report. The purpose behind this report is to achieve a grade of 1.2 points towards a final grade in a class in which I probably should have learned something, but didn’t, and will most likely suffer for in the future.

The materials used in this experiment were some freaky scientific type’s concept of an instructional experiment (a box). Hey I got the damn thing set up by the schematic the first time. The material used in the preparation of this report was the many faceted glows of the finest Golden #33, none other than Rollin’ Rock. The finest hops and barley combined with the finest Pennsylvania brew master’s time attested mastery went into brewing this time honored libation. (Rolling Rock Brewing Company, Latrobe, Pennsylvania, 13392)

The theory behind this experimentation is: If you follow the instructions to the letter and apply some common sense you’ll have no problems performing the experiment. The theory behind the write up is you don’t mess with the bears in the forest.

The Stage: A Navy buddy and I had been exploring the forest lands of Northern California for some years. Since we had conflicting occupations and conflicting interests along with conflicting schedules we rarely got up to the woods much but when we did our experiences were memorable.

On this occasion both our ships were in port, we had the weekend free, and it was a perfect time to continue exploration of the forest at the point where our last trail ended.

Equipped with Questor, the vehicle of choice, an assortment of knives, a .22 cal rifle with a 5×20 scope, an immense ten pound steak and a case of Rolling Rock, we set out in search of adventure.

Entering the foothills, the familiar sight of seagulls was replaced by the welcome sight of birds unfamiliar to me. Soon chipmunks were scurrying out of our path. As we were engulfed by trees and our view of the next bend in the road was obscured, we started sighting larger fur baring animals. All this aroused the male warrior instincts in us and primed our thirst for blood. Six hours later Questor came to a halt at a fork in the grassed over forest road. Tired from driving in the lush forest and thoroughly lost we decided to make camp. As night fell and wrapped us under the forest canopy of darkness our camp fire popped and spat as it devoured the gristle dripping from our strips of fatty steak. The smoke filled the near by woods making the carnivorous inhabitants drool at the smell.

Conversation shifted from the sighting in of the scope and proper way to build a shelter to which animals we would hunt in the morning and possibly KILL. Blood and grease dripped from our joules as we considered BEAR. Were there bears in these woods…? Our guess was yes. Should we sleep in the lean-to with bears about? The question was left hanging in the air, when off to our right in the direction of the departing smoke came an abrupt crashing noise. Something big and ferocious was coming through the pine trees. At the first crack of the tree branches, or the second, because we were slightly inebriated on Rolling Rock, my buddy grabbed his trusty rifle and capped off several rounds at the charging bear. He ran out of the fire circle and took refuge behind a large oak tree. I didn’t much like arguing with Gene or the bear, so I jumped up, dropped my beer and ran for the comparative safety of Questor’s tailgate. Diving inside and quickly rotating to pull the glass shut, I menacingly brandished my small but sturdy tanto knife. This knife could punch through a car door. The bear would find me ready… dangerous… and if need be… possible deadly in mortal combat. With my trusted ally Gene with a clear shot on the back of the truck his guaranteed true aim would finish any unwarranted rush. The shots that Gene rattled off must have changed the bears mind.

After an eternity of waiting the forest sound returned. Finally Gene startled me a second time as he returned to the truck. We quickly made the decision to sleep the night under Questor’s shell and not out on the cold ground. Gene messed around the camp site, tended the rife, and finally climbed into the back of the truck with his rifle. He kept a vigilant watch at the tailgate. It was obvious to us now that we were men damn it and smart ones too. There weren’t going to be any ferocious animals attacking us tonight and getting away with it. We were manly men… not men’s men mind you, but manly men. Tarzan would have seemed a homosexual next to us!

Somewhere during the longest, sleepless night on record as these two manly men stood vigilant watch over their campsite, my mortality caught up with me and I drifted off to sleep. I awoke the next morning to find Gene already up and milling about the campsite. I climbed out of the truck to find Gene’s handy work of the previous night. This Goliath among men had actually been trying to attract the bear back all night. He had taken the remains of last night’s dinner and hung it up to attract the bear. I questioned Gene on his motives. Surely we were gods among men and needn’t prove it by bringing home a bear skin. Abruptly I was silenced when I heard the sound of the bear charging from directly behind me. I heard the same loud crashing sound from the night before. This time much louder and much closer, I spun to face my doom bare handed and head on like the true Adonis I was. I observed branches being crushed by other branches. The cause of all of the commotion rearing its ugly head crashed through a last branch and came to a rest just before me. A pinecone… a PINECONE! The mother of all pinecones had broken loose and came crashing down the length of its parent tree. The entire night we had cowered from a stupid pinecone! We shrank from the ranks of gods quickly.

Gene had to bare the brunt of my jibes for than maneuver. “Quick Gene, shoot it before it charges!”

Questions

1. Had we really been scared out of our gourds?
2. Were we mice or men now?
3. Did we now have to measure our manhood like normal men with phallic measurements or had we our reduction in our own inflated minds just served as a reminder to our real manhood?

Conclusion

Almost everything in the forest is more interested in staying away from you than you are from it. So, sleep soundly in the forest for you are the biggest, baddest bastard in the forest when armed with your semi automatic slather-all .22 cal rifle.

Here is a picture of Bro, and he suggests that I am the warrior mind of the two of us? More evidence that he is mistaken.