I was a little kid when my stepdad told a story about being in bootcamp, and everyone getting maced in the face. I believe he said something about them wanting you to know what it felt like. Or maybe it was to see how soldiers reacted under certain situations.

When a special about the Navy Seals came on TV, and we saw how insane their training was, I joked I wanted to be a Seal. I think he thought I was serious, and he'd laugh and say there was no way I'd make it. I was probably 13, and I'd start doing push-ups in my PJs. After about eight of them, I would collapse into the bean bag chair (does anyone still have those anymore?) When my brothers Pinto Station wagon needed a front seat, he ended up putting that bean bag chair in there. I'm sure the seatbelt laws of today wouldn't have worked with that. But I digress.

I never wanted to be a Seal. And now, I'll occasionally read about one of them dying during training. They'll do stuff in Coronado, like sit out in the water at 4 a.m., for an hour. Just insane training.

I'm sure they get maced in the face, and worse.

Well, I saw in the paper that Las Vegas police officers are suing over Taser injuries they got during training. The officers had to go thru being tased, to see what it was like.

My first question is...why? I understand the value of having an officer know just how much it hurts, since they'll be doing it to perps. But ya know what? Why not just tell them..."Hey guys, this hurts like a mother. So, don't just go tasing anyone that mouths off. Use it as a last resort, the same way we train you with the gun."

When billy clubs started getting used, did we need to club officers with them so they'd know what it felt like?

The Las Vegas police have finally stopped tasing their officers. But, it was odd to listen to how they said it was made safe. They talked about how the officers laid down, so they wouldn't fall and break bones, or accidentally get hit in the eye.

I'm not sure how the taser manufacturer will be liable in any way. But you know the legal system. Women get millions for pouring hot coffee on their laps or finding thumbs in their chili.

My stepdad ended up getting mace. No, not "maced", but actually carrying mace around. You see, he became a letter carrier. I don't think his bosses ever made him take any in the eyes, so that he would know what the Doberman would feel like when they got a blast of it.

The few times he maced dogs, it did the trick. And usually the owners would come out yelling and screaming at him. Instead of apologizing for their dogs attacking him.

He had gotten some bad bites over the years, too. The post office always tried getting him to sue the dog owners, but they were people on his route. And he liked them. And it was usually people that did a good job of keeping their dogs in check.

I think I got a fear of dogs from all his stories.

When I met my racquetball buddy Gavin, I forgot that his wife takes in stray dogs. And about 8 of these huge things charged me. I turned my body slightly (so if they bit me, it was the side, and not my family jewels). They were climbing up my leg, which didn't feel so good, since I had shorts on.

When he asked, "You don't mind dogs, do you?" What could I say? I mean, I saw him take a racquetball that was hit about 95 miles an hour, right in the back of the neck the day before. I couldn't admit that these mutts were freaking me out.