I think whatever gene my eldest brother has was passed down from my mom's uncle. Famously he managed to shoot his big toe off while cleaning a hunting rifle. They rushed him to the ER, but he absolutely pulped the thing so there wasn't much they could do for him.
Once he got back home someone in his family asked him, quite rightly, how the hell he managed to shoot his toe off cleaning a gun. So he demonstrated the maneuver with his other foot and, hand to God, proceeded to shoot off his other big toe.
So this poor bastard spent his life wobbling around like one of those inflatable punching clowns because he'd managed to shoot off both of his big toes. You'd think that would sour him on guns, but it didn't, he kept hunting until the end and that's how he met his demise.
He managed to LIGHT HIMSELF ON FIRE while trying to light a propane heater in a deer stand and tumbled to the ground, flailing like a screaming, toeless comet. That was poor Arthur's last stupid mistake.
The last mistake was so notable there was some news coverage of it. Sadly they don't mention his missing toes. nbcnews.com/id/wbna45178682
The midwest is fucking wild, folks.

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More from @torriangray

23 Feb
Since people keep asking me about making up family stories (I don't!), I'll tell you about one time I did make up a story. In 8th grade my English teacher asked us to write a personal narrative about a loss we'd endured. I couldn't think of anything.
I told her I didn't have a subject, so she suggested writing about a loss someone I knew had endured as if it had happened to me. Ok, easy enough, so I wrote about a kid at my school in California who died of Leukemia as if he was my friend.
She loved my essay. She told me it was an excellent piece of work and well beyond my years, and unbeknownst to me she submitted it to a state competition--and it won the best personal narrative in the state.

A personal narrative of something that didn't happen to me.
Read 7 tweets
23 Feb
One of the brothers I do like (there’s 2.5 of those) is in intensive care. We thought he had bone marrow cancer, but it turned out to be a rare protein disorder called Amyloidosis. Now he’s hospitalized with blood clots in his leg and lungs. It’s a lot at once.
My brother’s girlfriend is an ICU nurse and has some concerns about his care and has been trying to convince them to transfer to another hospital, but so far he and his wife have resisted. For now they’re trying to dissolve the clots I guess? I’m concerned.
COVID affects life in so many ways. I’d love to be there to help, but I can’t be. All I can do is be available by phone. It’s so surreal for him to be going through all this a 30 minute drive away while I can’t see him. He may as well be on the other side of the world.
Read 4 tweets
23 Feb
When I was like 10 I was thumbing through my sister’s yearbook and I noticed she’d written racial epithets next to some of the pictures (she’s a horrible person). What I didn’t realize at the time was that she had written epithets for the wrong races because she’s also a moron.
Maybe that’s why she keeps dating racists: to hone her racist abilities.
Let’s see what she’s posting on the ol Facebook.

Yeah that tracks. ImageImageImageImage
Read 4 tweets
21 Feb
My dad used to take us to play basketball at a court in Yorba Linda a few nights a week. It was a good time generally, but my dad’s competitive nature ended up embarrassing us more often than not.
Sometimes it was a mild embarrassment, for instance he would frequently over exert himself until he threw up, then sprint back onto the court insisting he was fine as vomit still dribbled down his chin.

Hell of a way to get space in the post, really.

Other times it was severe.
There was a guy who played there now and again with one hand. He had a nice shot, but it took him awhile to load up because he had to balance the ball on his hand and steady it with his stump before firing off his shot. It was a bit of an operation and people gave him space.
Read 7 tweets
20 Feb
The funerary industry is incredibly predatory. When my dad died a few years ago the bills for even the most basic things were eye popping, and the quotes for services were just off the wall crazy. It’s an embarrassment.
They rely on you being at the lowest moment of your life and use car dealer style tactics to pressure you into paying for services and upgrades that don’t really matter that you can’t really afford. It’s repellent behavior.
I think of things like the state board of embalmers and funeral directors in Louisiana trying to stop monks from selling relatively inexpensive caskets to the public. The board is made up primarily of embalmers and funeral home directors. google.com/amp/s/www.lati…
Read 4 tweets
20 Feb
I don't know whether my childhood was weirder than most or if I just notice weird things. I think it's a bit of both. Being one six kids doesn't help. When you roll the dice six times you're bound to get a few assholes. That doesn't explain my cousins though.
A good example of weirdness would be the branch of our family near Anoka. My mom's brother is a nudist and pulled his whole unfortunate family into that lifestyle with him, including his two adopted children.
So every summer they'd pack up their station wagon and truck up north to expose every square inch of their pasty white skin to mosquito attack while they engaged in volleyball and a variety of other ball sports.
Read 10 tweets

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