Tweet
For the non-newbs of this site, you already know, but for the weak minded and the fresh meat on our forum, I shall enlighten you on my Love Hate Relationship with Dick's Sporting Goods.
Lets get this fact out there, as clear as the procomp curse and the $75 curse with Drew Gleacher: I Hate Dick's Sporting Goods, but, it is the only decent place where I can purchase ammo for a moderately good price.
(Some argue that I can buy bulk stuff, the cheap south African blood diamond corrosive 'fuck your rifling, I'm going to eat it' powdered shit that gets imported here for some epic lulz and sold for the price of a Friday D35 Axle. I'll pay more for American quality, kthkzbie)
Anyway, I guess it started as the long running joke that Dick's Sporting Goods is in the Middle of Milford, the Moron Capitol of Connecticut. Every misinformed leech that has the slightest idea of what a firearm is, somehow, ends up there at the exact time I am trying to buy ammo.
Lets Recap. Some black dude stated to his other black ghetto friends how he wished he had a Desert Eagle cause when he 'BUST IT OUT BITCHES BE RUNNIN'. If that teenager was ever given the chance to shoot a desert eagle .50 AE, downrange or in front of the target is probably the safest place to be. Moments after, while entertaining the idea of Dick's Sporting Goods actually SELLING handguns, one of the other ghetto personnel stated how he 'Wished his .22 'sniper rifle' would take larger bullets'.
What? Did he want to put some .308 in there? Get some .50 beowulf up n in da bionche.
And lets not forget the time I was buying a Remington 870 there, a nice one too, brand new, $250. Sweet deal right? I even got a show. Some paintball n00b showed up with what looked to be his white trash mother and started meandering near the paintball stuff behind the glass case a few feet from me. Well, the clerk that was helping me could not help them. He had to watch me like a hawk because there was a firearm on the counter and we were doing paperwork. He promptly called over another clerk and said to go help the 'Less Desirable Customers'. I about shit my face on the paperwork.
Epic Lulz Indeed.
And let us not forget the most recent confrontation when buying .223. It seems Dick's had gotten in a small shipment of Cricket .22s, a small single shot, bolt action .22 designed for children from about 5-10 years of age. The two they happen to have in stock, where blaze pink. While waiting for my .223, two white kids walk up, clearly high school cockroaches from a nearby public school. The public education system clearly shined in these two people of brash opinions.
The lanky one, kindly asked out loud 'Why is that gun pink?'
And the short fat one in golf shorts blurred out 'You wouldn't fucking understand anyway' like the dude had just raped his mother and skull fucked his father and asked him why he was crying.
I had no words. I simply...walked away....
But anyway, it seems I simply cannot escape this place. Even at home, Dick's sporting goods send me Hate Mail. Hate mail you say? Yes. Hate mail.
I received a letter from them today thanking me for my business there. They in fact love me so much, the decided to give me Ten Dollars. Ten. Fucking. Dollars. Normally I would be thrilled.
SWEET $10! But no. This was a ploy to simply rape my intelligence by not even being near the Milford Area. Many of you would not find this by any means 'offensive' or 'strange' but to me, it is just another fucking way that the people of this world...
Spell my last name.
Larcooa. What. The goddamn FUCK. My last name is Larocca. Not LaRocca, LaRacco, Lacava, Carocca, Lorocco, La Rocka or Larcooa.
It isn't a complicated name. It isn't like you are trying to spell out the scientific classification of a goddamn space monkey alien that makes the same noise as two skeletons fucking on a tin roof in three languages. A simple, 7 letter last name, the same last name that I kindly PRINTED OUT NICE AND NEAT on the FORM FOR THE MOTHERFUCKING SCORE CARD.
So I thank you, Dick's Sporting Good, for fucking with me while I'm not even in your Store.
You truly are my Mortal Enemy.
Lets get this fact out there, as clear as the procomp curse and the $75 curse with Drew Gleacher: I Hate Dick's Sporting Goods, but, it is the only decent place where I can purchase ammo for a moderately good price.
(Some argue that I can buy bulk stuff, the cheap south African blood diamond corrosive 'fuck your rifling, I'm going to eat it' powdered shit that gets imported here for some epic lulz and sold for the price of a Friday D35 Axle. I'll pay more for American quality, kthkzbie)
Anyway, I guess it started as the long running joke that Dick's Sporting Goods is in the Middle of Milford, the Moron Capitol of Connecticut. Every misinformed leech that has the slightest idea of what a firearm is, somehow, ends up there at the exact time I am trying to buy ammo.
Lets Recap. Some black dude stated to his other black ghetto friends how he wished he had a Desert Eagle cause when he 'BUST IT OUT BITCHES BE RUNNIN'. If that teenager was ever given the chance to shoot a desert eagle .50 AE, downrange or in front of the target is probably the safest place to be. Moments after, while entertaining the idea of Dick's Sporting Goods actually SELLING handguns, one of the other ghetto personnel stated how he 'Wished his .22 'sniper rifle' would take larger bullets'.
What? Did he want to put some .308 in there? Get some .50 beowulf up n in da bionche.
And lets not forget the time I was buying a Remington 870 there, a nice one too, brand new, $250. Sweet deal right? I even got a show. Some paintball n00b showed up with what looked to be his white trash mother and started meandering near the paintball stuff behind the glass case a few feet from me. Well, the clerk that was helping me could not help them. He had to watch me like a hawk because there was a firearm on the counter and we were doing paperwork. He promptly called over another clerk and said to go help the 'Less Desirable Customers'. I about shit my face on the paperwork.
Epic Lulz Indeed.
And let us not forget the most recent confrontation when buying .223. It seems Dick's had gotten in a small shipment of Cricket .22s, a small single shot, bolt action .22 designed for children from about 5-10 years of age. The two they happen to have in stock, where blaze pink. While waiting for my .223, two white kids walk up, clearly high school cockroaches from a nearby public school. The public education system clearly shined in these two people of brash opinions.
The lanky one, kindly asked out loud 'Why is that gun pink?'
And the short fat one in golf shorts blurred out 'You wouldn't fucking understand anyway' like the dude had just raped his mother and skull fucked his father and asked him why he was crying.
I had no words. I simply...walked away....But anyway, it seems I simply cannot escape this place. Even at home, Dick's sporting goods send me Hate Mail. Hate mail you say? Yes. Hate mail.
I received a letter from them today thanking me for my business there. They in fact love me so much, the decided to give me Ten Dollars. Ten. Fucking. Dollars. Normally I would be thrilled.
SWEET $10! But no. This was a ploy to simply rape my intelligence by not even being near the Milford Area. Many of you would not find this by any means 'offensive' or 'strange' but to me, it is just another fucking way that the people of this world...
Spell my last name.
Larcooa. What. The goddamn FUCK. My last name is Larocca. Not LaRocca, LaRacco, Lacava, Carocca, Lorocco, La Rocka or Larcooa.
It isn't a complicated name. It isn't like you are trying to spell out the scientific classification of a goddamn space monkey alien that makes the same noise as two skeletons fucking on a tin roof in three languages. A simple, 7 letter last name, the same last name that I kindly PRINTED OUT NICE AND NEAT on the FORM FOR THE MOTHERFUCKING SCORE CARD.
So I thank you, Dick's Sporting Good, for fucking with me while I'm not even in your Store.
You truly are my Mortal Enemy.
they spelled my name right 
Comment