Thu 6 Mar 2008
Sure, it starts off with a Daisy air rifle, but as sure as a man’s haircut should be a flat-topped buzz-cut, he’ll turn you into a total remorseless killing machine. No need for enlistment in the U.S. military — Mr. Unitas will prepare you to kill any flavour-of-the-month foreigner who dares to challenge the might and right of American hegemony.
Johnny Unitas, the legendary Colts QB, isn’t wasting time teaching young Kenneth Unitas about football. Who needs a Todd Marinovich-esque burnout for a son when you could have a Daisy-firing sniper? Unitas is right — firearms install a sense of responsibility and confidence in a boy…oh, and also the desire to shoot a communist’s eye out at 300 yards.

“I like shooting with him simply because it gives us an opportunity to spend some time together.” Truer and wiser words have never been spoken. We are all looking for hobbies that will give us the chance to spend quality bonding time with our fathers. It’s great to have a common interest, something that allows for togetherness and the tender but rugged interaction that makes families strong. If you happen to find that link, that elusive hobby in common, you are both incredibly lucky. I’ve been blessed myself. Since I joined the Klan, things between my Dad and me have never been better. Once you’ve nailed the first burning cross in the lawn of a neighbour with the help of your own flesh and blood, there is a connection that just cannot be broken.

Remember: DAISY - Growing up with American Boys Since 1886.

Also Remember: DAISY - Making American Boys Grow Since 2005.

March 6th, 2008 at 7:00 am
“Daisy” is also a euphemism for a homosexual.
So, “Shooting a Daisy” takes on an entirely different context then, doesn’t it.
THE SPORT A BOY GROWS UP WITH, indeed.
March 6th, 2008 at 12:52 pm
I’ve also heard that “son Ken” is predator speak for “underage boyfriend”. As in, “I took at trip to Thailand, and met my son Ken.”
March 6th, 2008 at 1:47 pm
I suppose the headline is better than “Johnny Unitas Will Train to Kill You”, which was the result of my first dyslexic reading of it. Maybe I’m just paranoid.
March 7th, 2008 at 3:11 pm
You’re right about that discovering that elusive hobby.
It wasn’t until my dad and I built a WWF approved wrestling ring in our backyard and started relentlessly suplexing each other that found that rare zone.
March 7th, 2008 at 4:29 pm
Sadly, Sports Hernia’s dad was Chris Benoit. That comment was written posthumously.
March 7th, 2008 at 4:49 pm
He was buried with a keyboard, to capture any/all post-mortem “‘roid rages”.
March 7th, 2008 at 5:19 pm
HA! To honor him, I’ve cut my calves off to be the same height.