Today I heard someone making the usual arguments that most people who own guns don’t kill people, and that people buy guns to defend their homes and persons against bad people, those other people who use guns to rob, injure, or kill good people, the people who buy guns to defend themselves against the other bad people with guns. I hope I have stated this someone’s argument in a way that makes manifest its clarity and elegant circularity.
Now I have a confession to make: I like guns, own a gun, and am seduced by the beauty of the evil incorporated a well made gun designed solely for killing and maiming one’s fellow creatures.
I like knives, too. Sometimes, for that special someone, shooting just isn’t up close and personal enough.
In my humble opinion, people who buy guns for self defense want to shoot people, want an excuse to shoot people, and want a gun handy to shoot the people should the proper occasion arise and the excuse provided. As recent events have demonstrated, the excuse threshold is lower for some than others. Most gun owners under most circumstances are Walter Mitty shooters and only dream of shooting someone.
Now, as gun owner, I don’t exempt myself from the statement I just made. Let me repeat: I like guns, and am seduced by the beauty of the evil incorporated a well made gun designed solely for killing and maiming one’s fellow creatures. I’m currently in the Walter Mitty category in so far as shooting people goes.
But I’m thinking of starting a gun club for liberals called VAHALLA, the Very Angry Heavily Armed Liberals & Leftists Association. Should the teabagging wingers currently hinting at insurrection actually resort to armed violence I am ready to take up my firearms to defend home and country against them. I am ready to shoot them. In fact, I’d be happy to. That will be the occasion that will provide my excuse.
I bear the Mark of Cain the same as the assorted wingers I accused in my previous post. My point is that every human being on Earth has murder in their hearts, myself included. We are complicated creatures and we have a lot of things in our hearts, but murder is part of the mix. Anyone who denies this darkness in their hearts I personally would not trust within grabbing distance of a firearm.
Last Sunday I attended the Tulsa Gun Show. It’s held at the Fairgrounds less than a mile from my house, and it’s one of the largest, if not the largest, gun show in the country. You can buy a gun there as easily as you can buy a candy bar; easier than that if you can find one of the skulking freelancers in the parking lot. They don’t let you take pictures there–possibly because of all the booths that sell Nazi memorablia–but if you’ve never been to the Gun Show, believe me the sight of this massive orgy of upstanding Aryan-Americans exercising their rights under the Second Amendment of the Constitution is downright awe-inspiring. Mindblowing.
Watching dozens of white middle-aged guys wandering around with 4 or 5 assault rifles over their shoulders like so many golf clubs definitely made me feel like I needed to buy at least one for me, to defend myself from the likes of these gun crazy creeps. But I didn’t buy one. Yet. I want to get a nice short barreled pump shotgun first.
Now, I’ve already confessed that I find the death-dealing beauty of firearms seductive. I admitted I have murder in my heart. I’ve as much as said I’d like to shoot someone, give the right set of circumstances. Did I mention that I’m a Manic Depressive who drinks a bit?
The question you want to ask yourself is, do you want a person like me to be able to buy, with untracable cash in hand, a military grade assault rifle and all the ammo I can carry–as easily as I can buy a Mars Bar and a six pack at the corner Quikie Mart? Well, do ya–Punk?
That is my personal argument for stricter gun control.
Dr. Omed's Tent Show Revival 