Shooting is an excellent way to get those endorphins flowing. It’s a hoot. In some cases, it’s also a holler. The problem with whooping it up: you need to train yourself to take shooting seriously. Whether you’re shooting Taliban, targets or (maybe someday hopefully not) violent perps, you need to get into the zone and stay there until you’ve stopped shooting or the threat is over. In terms of practice, pausing to savor your friends’ war whoops or redneck yell, or to generate one yourself, is harmless fun and excellent bonding. But the old “train as you mean to fight dictum” kicks in. Or should. Either that or I’m an anal retentive killjoy without a sense of humor, real-world experience or perspective. As if.