Personal Protection, Self Defense Products, Stun Guns, Pepper Sprays

Thought I’d drop you a line while I’m waiting for the plane to board.
Heading back to Phoenix after a great internet seminar in Tampa this
past weekend.

Sylvia and I were lucky enough to have dinner on Saturday night with
Dennis Rogers, the strongest man in the world.

If you ever met Dennis, you’d never guess he’s the world’s strongest
guy. Not because he’s such a gentle giant, or he’s so soft spoken. Not
at all.

Because he’s so small.

He’s smaller than I am. I’m a little taller and I outweigh him by
about 25 pounds. As of this writing I’m 5′10′ and 179 pounds.

I’m bigger than the strongest man in the world! But he’s badder, and by
about 1000 times.

Dennis holds the record for strength resistance. Here’s some of the
things he can do.

He can dead lift a fridge with 1 finger.

He can bend–and break in 2–a large crescent wrench. Can do the same
thing with a carbide drill bit and a pry bar.

He can strap himself to 4 Harleys and keep them from driving off.
Sometimes he even gets bored doing it.

Can do the same thing with 2 Air Force jets.

And he is the sweetest guy, too. Gives a lot of his time to talk to
kids about not doing drugs.

Sylvia and I had a good time with Dennis and his wife, Sylvia. Wonder
if it’s any coincidence that he and I both ended up with Mexicanas? “Mexicanas” means Mexican women.

And he let us feel his bicep as he flexed it. It felt like someone had
lifted his skin, but a piece of diamond under it, and then covered it
back up. It really was hard as rock. Never felt anything like that
before.

Dennis really is a one of a kind.

But you and I ain’t. We need to be ready for situations that guys like
Dennis may not worry about. We need to be sure we have extra personal
protection.

I have mine, but do you have yours?

Get on over to www.daneseselfdefense.com and order a stun gun or pepper
spray. These are things that’s better to have one and not need it,
than to need one and not have one.

Especially when it costs so little to be prepared. We’re talking less
than 50 bucks.

Hell, that’s less than the price for 1 aspirin if some creep puts you
in the hospital.

Til next time, buddy,

Today is the 37th anniversary of the Kent State shootings. 4 college
kids were shot by Ohio National Guardsmen at a campus anti-war rally.

In retrospect it appears that the Guardsmen panicked and over-reacted
to the protesters. But rallies like this were relatively new to America
and the authorities just didn’t have a lot of experience with them.

The baby boom generation gets a black mark for incidents like this, but
it’s not entirely deserved. They learned behavior like this from
members of the WW II generation–they didn’t invent it themselves.

The very 1st campus protest against the Vietnam War was held in 1962,
which means that the oldest of the baby boomers would have been only 16
years old. And trust me, in 1962, the only things that 16 year olds
were interested in were cars, malts, Vitalis and Clearasil. Ask your old
man about Vitalis.

There’s just no possible way for the baby boom generation to have
invented the kind of anti-establishment, anti-American protesting that was a
part of the 60’s and 70’s. All of this was the work of those from the
WW II generation.

Not all of that generation, mind you, but the commies and socialists
from that generation. And there was a ton of ‘em.

Ever heard of Catcher in the Rye? How about Rebel Without a Cause?
These are often cited as examples of “art” that eventually led to the
distress of the 60’s and 70’s.

But they came out in 1955 and 56. The oldest baby boomer was then only 10
years old. What? Did a Dennis the Menace type write that script and write that book that sparked all that
campus protest?

No. It was members of the WW II generation who taught basic commie
tactics to the baby boomers. And not knowing any better, not having
enough guidance from their parents and churches, many boomers bought it
hook, line and sinker.

So every year on this anniversary, the Kent State Commons is full of
commie hate groups who invented their names the night before and just
finished painting their signs a few minutes before sunrise.

They set up booths and try and pass out pamphlets and shout at anyone
who walks by. Used to be that megaphones were the thing to have.
Nowadays they all got mics and speakers.

I know cause I took a masters degree there back in 1980, but don’t
spread that around, please.

What gets me after all these years is why so many of the boomers
haven’t wised up and rejected the bill of goods they were sold. All is takes
is a little bit of life’s experiences to realize that they were fooled.

Maybe it’s pride, maybe it’s stupidity, or maybe–maybe it’s that now
that they’ve learned how to fool younger folks like they had been
fooled, they like having all the power that goes with it. Power tends to
corrupt, as the saying goes.

What do you think?

Yesterday a prima donna at Tampa International Airport forced Flight
578 to a compete stop as it was taxi-ing toward the gate. She held the
plane at bay for 3 to 4 minutes while she relieved herself as the plane
sat on the tarmack.

And she was not arrested. Amazing.

My wife and I were on Flight 578 to Tampa, and I saw the whole thing.

The pilot performed a very smooth landing and about 10 seconds later
some scary, unkempt broad was out of her seat on the way to the potty.
Everyone knows this is a no-no, right? But not our diva.

The crew that was still seated by the main exit door tried to stop her,
but they themselves did not leave their seats.

I have to go to the bathroom, she snarled, and rushed past them. THen
someone called the pilot with the news, and the plane stopped dead.

Jeopardy music would have been appropriate here as we waited. The
pilot announced that FAA regs prohibited anyone to be standing or walking
or peeing while the plane was in motion. So we just waited.

After 3 to 4 minutes the siege was over. Our lovely large loser left
the lavatory.

We all heard her as she walked down the aisle. “JC, you can’t even go
potty anymore. I didn’t thing it was such a big deal to go to the potty.”

I think I said a pity prayer for her husband, I can’t remember.

Now I’m in our hotel room at the Tampa Airport Marriott. I love hotels
like this. They’re part of the airport. Just get off the plane and
walk to the front desk. Wonder why it took so long for someone to think
this up.

Another convenience it offers is that since we don’t have to leave the
hotel or the airport for the entire time, we don’t have to pack our
stun guns and pepper spray. The incidence of crime inside places like
this is very low.

But whenever we fly anywhere else, we always bring the goodies. You
can pack them on your checked luggage, NOT your carry on.

No one should leave themselves defenseless when they travel or when they’re at home. No one.

Let me put it to you this way. Any one who buys a lottery ticket
should carry a stun gun, pepper spray or a personal alarm. Your chances of
being a crime victim are at least a thousand times greater than your
chances of hitting the big one.

Would you believe 1 in 7? That’s the odds that you will be a crime victim at least once in your life–1 in 7!

C’mon, you gonna tell me you never bought a lottery ticket?

Buy what you really need BEFORE you need it. Don’t let me hear that
you wish you had done it because now you’re facing 6 months of therapy
and recovery time from the beating you took from some gang bangers.

Everything you need is at www.daneseselfdefense.com. Your stun gun
will even come with 3 years worth of free batteries.

From Tampa,

What you discovered that day, I said, we call electricity. It’s one of
the most used power sources that we have–just about everything works
on electricity. That’s how the coffeemaker works.

And still he didn’t understand.

What do I do now? Am I going to have to try and explain electricity to
him? I know a little bit about it, but I ain’t no electrical engineer.
All I did was give the guy a lousy cup of coffee. When am I gonna wake
up?

While I was fumbling around in search of an idea, I noticed the kitchen
lights and the step stool we keep by one of our ovens. I quickly
grabbed the stool–this ought to work, I thought–and put it under one of
the overhead lights.

Here, stand on this and hold your hand next to the light bulb, but
don’t touch it, it’s hot.

He looks up at the bulb and says How is light emanating from
that…light bulb, did you call it?

Hey, I said impatiently, we’re doing coffeemakers here, not light
bulbs, alright! Just get on the stool!

Sir, he says, I once knew a woman with a temper like that. She had
some other very charming qualities by way of compensation. You, on the
other hand…

I didn’t let him finish. I said I was sorry, and I steadied the step
stool while he got on it.

Feel how hot it is?

Indeed I do. So this contraption produces both light and heat.
Amazing. But sir, if we’re…doing coffeemakers, as you put it, why have you
asked me to mount this stool and feel the heat from your light bulb?

Come down before you fall, i said. I wanted you to feel and understand
the heat coming from the bulb. That’s how we make our coffee.

What you can’t see going to the light bulb is a cord very much like the
one that you see on the coffeemaker. It’s just hidden for cosmetic
reasons. It’s electricity that flows through the cord that makes the light
work, makes the coffeemaker work, and for both of them, heat is
generated.

Alright, you’re doin it, I’m thinking. This is good, he should get
this easy.

But since we’re talking about different functions here, I said,
different needs, the coffeemaker is designed to produce more heat than the
light bulb. In fact, the heat from the light is kind of an unwanted
by-product that we’re trying to find a way to eliminate. But for something
like a coffeemaker, the heat is exactly what’s needed.

I see, he says, as he heads back to the coffeemaker. May I, he says?
I waved him ok. He took the pot from its place and set it aside, then
he tilted the unit to look underneath. A look of understanding seemed
to come over his face, a little smirk.

He leaned the unit upright again, spread his hands wide and flat on the
counter, looked at me and said,

I’m quite certain that I understand this contraption. The electricity
makes the heat inside of it, the water is made hot, and it appears that
simple convection is what brings the water to the coffee grounds. From
there, it is simply a matter of gravity. Am I correct, sir.

I believe so, yes.

You believe so? You mean you do not know how your own coffeemaker
produces coffee?

Hey, I’m just a tailor with an internet business. What do I know?!
And quickly I said sorry again. Didn’t mean to snap at you. But you got
to know the pressure I’m under trying to have an intelligent
conversation with the great Franklin.

Here at least I was a step ahead of the conversation. I remembered his
vanity from before,and when I went there again, I got what I was
looking for. Any notion he might have had to get annoyed at me again quickly
passed when I called him the great Franklin.

And now I’m hoping he hasn’t noticed that there’s still the electricity
itself that I haven’t explained. I’m hoping, but I’m not expecting. I
don’t expect there’s much that gets by him.

And there’s not much that gets by a hidden camera when you have the
right one in the right spot. What’s the right one? Hard to say. That’s
why we have 71 different kinds to choose from.
www.danesesurveillance.com/hidden-cameras.htm.

And if that ain’t enough and you’re a handy guy like Franklin no doubt
was, we have what you need to make your own hidden camera.

They all work on either electrical or battery power. Oh God, no,
please don’t let him ask about batteries.

Til later,

Don’t know why this came back to me today, but 15 years ago a woman
flashed me. In case you’re a youngin, I mean she showed me her tats.
I’ve never forgotten it.

She came into our tailoring shop when I was the only one there to pin
her. She needed to have her pants hemmed. So I put her in front of our
mirror, walked behind her, and I could see that her pants were hanging
a little crooked from her waist.

She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt. The pants had elastic in the
waistband. It was a dark and gloomy day.

I asked her Are you sure your waistline isn’t twisted on your hips?

Usually this is where the customer will use both hands and reach under her shirt and feel all around her waist to straighten things out.
Sometimes the person doing the pinning needs to lift the shirt himself
and verify that all is well.

Any number of different things can happen in a situation like this–but
what happened that day has burned itself into my memory like a branding
iron on a young, innocent, unsuspecting calf.

No, it’s not twisted, she said, and to prove it, she grabbed the hem of
her sweatshirt and yanked it up over her head–over her head, mind you–and there they were.

No slip, no bra, and no shame.

Then she acted like she made a mistake and quickly covered them up.

Now I know you, and I just know you’re thinking, so what did she
look like? Was she hot? Were they hot? Was I getting hot? Tell me the word hot is in here somewhere.

I ain’t gonna sugar coat it. Imagine the Wendy’s Where’s the Beef lady,
only not as cute, and when she says Where’s the Beef, it was all on the
lady in front of me. Are you happy now?

I’ve never seen that woman ever again. Check that. I mean that I’ve
never seen her in person ever again. But the memory is still there, and
it keeps coming back every now and then, no matter what I do to try and
block it out.

It ain’t easy to block something from your mind. You send a message to
your brain that says block out that memory. And your brain answers
what memory? And you think, the memory of those two invaders to my
fortress of solitude. And then there they are, back in the front of your
mind.

I’ve realized that this is something that only the sweet hand of death
can obliterate. But I’ve learned something, too. I figured out that I
can use that image as a caution sign, a warning signal. The day that I
start to recall that memory with fondness is the day that I’ll know
it’s time to blow my brains out.

That’s something I won’t be able to use one of our Tasers for.
www.daneseselfdefense.com/advancedtaser.htm. I’ll need a Magnum or some such.
A Taser shot to the head would be extremely uncomfortable, but wouldn’t
be what I’m looking for then.

On second thought, maybe the electrical stim from the Taser to my old timer’s head
would break up some of the plaque in there that could be causing my
attitude change. This could be something I need to alert the Alzheimer’s
folks to. Might be a cure.

Tell you what, you do that for me, ok?

Tomorrow I’ll have more on Benny and me.

See you then,

Last night I had my coolest dream ever.

While I was drinking my morning coffee, Ben Franklin suddenly appeared
right in front of me. Scared the crap out of both of us–not just me.

I know who you look like, but it can’t be you, I said.

Benjamin Franklin, at your service, sir–and he actually gave me a bow.

I didn’t know what else to say. For a few seconds neither of us said
anything. And then I could tell that he got pissed at me, and an instant later I realized that I hadn’t offered him a seat, hadn’t offered
him any coffee, hadn’t offered him squat. Just as I was about to, he
said Is that coffee I smell, sir?

Have a seat, I said, and yes it is. How do you take it? I could tell he
didn’t understand me.

Would you like it black, milk and sugar, milk only, sugar only?

I’ll have my coffee plain, please.

So I give him a cup, he sits down, takes a sip, tells me how much he
likes it, and he asks me how I made it. So I show him my coffee maker,
and he’s fascinated by it–starts examining it, looking at the basket
that holds the coffee, the water tank, and the pot. Fiddles with the
cord a might. He doesn’t say anything, he’s just looking at the coffeemaker
from all angles.

Then he says, So the water drips onto the coffee grounds, this piece of
paper holds the grounds in this basket, and only the brewed coffee
comes down into the pot?

That’s it exactly, I say.

Would you explain to me, sir, he says, what makes the water hot, how
does it get from the tank to the coffee grounds, and what does this cord
do?

And now this is where I start getting a little scared, cause it dawns
on me that I’m about to have a technical, scientific discussion with a
genius like Ben Franklin, and I’m afraid I won’t measure up. In fact,
I’m pretty damn sure of it.

This cord is what makes it all work, I say. This cord brings the
electricity to the coffeemaker to make it work. At first I thought, not
bad–I was even proud of myself.

But he didnt say a word. He just stood there in a thinking posture,
kind of bent over, his chin tucked to his chest, eyes closed, trying to
grasp what I said. And then he sighed. A kind of sigh I sometimes use
myself when I’m talking to a moron.

Then I got an inspiration.

Think of this cord as the line of string you used that day when you
flew your kite in the lightning storm. You had a key attached to the
string, and when lightning hit the kite, it traveled to the key and you
captured it.

Would you mind telling me sir, how it is you know about that day?

Are you kidding?, I said. Everybody knows about that day. We learn
about that day in grade school.

I could tell that this really appealed to his vanity. He stopped
slouching and stood erect, and he looked like he was ready to tolerate my
ignorance. He waited for me to go on.

What you discovered that day we call electricity. It’s one of the most-used power sources that we have–just about everything works on
electricity. That’s how the coffeemaker works.

And still he didn’t understand.

And then I thought, why not continue this story later? So I will.

In the meantime, have a look at our dummy surveillance cameras.
www.dansesurveillance.com/dummy-cameras.htm. They’re so advanced they even
work without electricity.

Til next time, my friend,

Pete Rogers is a meteorologist for the National Weather Service. He
likes George Wallace’s joke about weather guys–the only job on earth
where you can make mistakes every single day, and still have a job the
next day.

But for Pete, those days may be over.

Yesterday, the temperature in Phoenix hit 102, about 2 weeks earlier
than it usually does. SO maybe it was the heat that did it, but Pete
made a big, big mistake–one that could be his last.

“This really doesn’t say much in terms of the rest of the summer.”

That’s it. That’s all he said. Nothing about the doom and gloom
that’s headed our way. Only 13 words that he may regret for the rest of his
life. 13 lousy words.

If he was a wop like me, maybe lucky 13 would save him. 13 is a lucky number for Italians. But with a
name like Rogers, he ain’t no wop–he ain’t even no dago. He’s just part
of the rest of the world that thinks that 13 is unlucky. He’s about to
find out how unlucky it is.

The global warming police are gonna be all over him like ugly on an ape.

No doubt it’s happening already. While you’re reading this, Pete is
being blasted with questions like, how could you screw up like this?

Don’t you read your memos? Don’t you pay attention to all your buddies
who forgot to link global warming to every story? They’re all banished
to nowheresville! IF HELL FREEZES OVER, IT’S BECAUSE OF GLOBAL WARMING,
YOU MORON!

I hope Pete’s hearing can stand the screaming.

How he messed up like this is hard to say. Maybe he was tired of
following the company line. Maybe he was just trying to do an honest day’s
work for an honest buck. Who knows.

But one thing’s for sure, there’s gonna be a crapload of demerits that
goes along with this mistake. Pete may not be long at his current job.
He could be showing up in your town any day now.

If you see him on the street, don’t embarrass him by making a big deal
of his courageous reporting. Just put a few nickels in his cup and
give him a nod. He’ll know what you mean.

Maybe even buy him a pepper spray for
protection–www.daneseselfdefense.com/pepper2-4oz.htm–the the street is a very dangerous place for
upstanding guys like Pete.

Til next time,

There’s nothing I used to like better than to have my Saturday morning
coffee while I watched the home improvement shows on PBS and TLC. I
liked to watch the guys strut their stuff while I’d say to myself, I think
I could do that.

But sooner or later they’d interrupt the show to go on a tour of some
beautiful old house that used to be the home of a rich, great American,
but has fallen on such hard times that now it has to put up with pencil
neck geeks and plain Janes making themselves at home as curators of the
house/museum. What used to be the sanctuary of a great American family
is now presided over by someone who’s only accomplishment is to tell us
what somebody else accomplished.

So the host will start talking to the weenie curator and ask about some
particular feature, maybe the wainscoting, or the elaborate paint
job–maybe the crown molding. And the weenie comes back with, oh, they
installed that to show the world that they were rich. Or maybe, they chose
that piece to show that they had arrived.

And I hear that crap and I think, what a crock. You know what I’m
sayin?

There’s no way that the great Americans who built and furnished that
home ever did anything to it based on what someone else would think. I
know I’m right about this because a few years back Sylvia and I did some
remodeling of our own, and we didn’t give a hoot what anyone else would
think about it.

We wanted to have a bigger dining room and a better kitchen, so we
shopped around for materials and appliances and picked out the things that
we thought would make our home the way we wanted it–the way that would
help us enjoy it more.

We chose the colors and quality of the appliances based on what WE
wanted, and never even gave a thought to what someone else might think or
say about it.

We did what WE wanted to do.

But some weenie of a curator–and sometimes even the host of the home
improvement show–tries to say that the original owners only put in
their homes things that would impress others, and to that I say when is
someone going to invent a hole that would let me reach into my tv set and
slap those idiots upside the head? When?

And if those dolts had at least been smart enough to install one of our
complete surveillance systems, they could even make a few bucks by
selling me a copy of the incident–how I’d love to play that back over and
over again– just to show the world that I had arrived, you understand.
I’d never do it out of enjoyment.

Til next time,

Lou

p.s. Our complete surveillance systems are now up to 42% off–have a
look. www.danesesurveillance.com/complete-systems.htm.

Every morning I sit down with my coffee and computer and check out the
day’s news. My coffee pot is in arms reach, so getting up for more–hell, what am I saying–THERE IS NO GETTING UP FOR MORE–it’s like heaven.
It’s a great way to start the day.

But there’s always something in the news that makes me scratch my head
and think who writes this crap, anyway!

I’m looking at a story that says how you prepare your food can be just
as big a problem for you as what you eat. Doesn’t matter if you only
buy organic, doesn’t matter if you eat right, avoid the junk food.

If you cook your food so you enjoy it, that’s bad.

Something called advanced glycation end products, or “age’s.” I mean,
this has got to be a hoax, right? What the hell are “age’s”? Things
that make you age? Things that keep you from aging? Don’t know. And
my online dickshionary don’t know, neither.

They say that the tastes and smells that develop when you cook your
food are both good and bad for you. Sounds like when my dad used to say
this is going to hurt me more than it does you. Yeah, right–sure it
will.

Come on.

The only thing that’s good and bad for you is Seagram’s 7–straight up.
When I drink it at the pool hall, my game improves, but I’ve got to be
real careful how I get myself home. Never you mind how I do it.

If you really want something that’s good and bad for you, take a look
at our stun/alarm flashlights.
http://daneseselfdefense.com/stunflashlights.htm.

They’re perfect for the car or nightstand. A flashlight,
screaming-loud alarm, and stun gun–all in one. Everything a boy or girl needs in
an emergency. They’re beautiful.

Even comes with free batteries for 3 years.

What’s the bad part?

Depends on you. You the kind of skeptic who likes to kick the tires
before you buy?

Resist the urge to try one one of these stuns on yourself–just to be
sure they work. Trust me. They’ll light you up and start you shaking
like a paint mixer.

Might be something worth seeing, actually. Give the newspapers a story
on why stun guns are bad for you:

“Rogue Stun Gun Turns on Owner–You thought suv’s were killers? Now
you’ve got to worry about stun guns, too….”

Don’t try it, don’t you try it.

Til next time, my friend,

Lou DiCola

Thought you’d want to know about the 40% to 42% price reductions on
most of our complete video surveillance systems. This is NOT a sale, but
a permanent price reduction.

I know I’m violating a basic marketing principle by telling you there’s
no hurry to buy, that you’ll still get the Super Savings whether you
order now or 2 weeks from now. But we try to maintain a stress-free
shopping experience for our customers–that’s our preferred way of doing
business.

So now you know. You know you need a video surveillance system to keep
an eye on your home or office. And you know where you can get one at a
savings of up to 42%. Nike, baby–Just do it!

Here’s the link: www.danesesurveillance.com/complete-systems.htm.

Til next time,

Lou DiCola

p.s. Summer’s coming. That means more time away from your home or
office, more chances for a burglar to pop in unannounced. Be prepared for
him.