Let’s call it ‘gun freedom’
We should’ve learned from Global Warming. One snowmageddon and the naysayers called bullshit and decided science is debatable. E does NOT equal mc2. Newton’s fruit will NOT lawfully fall down from that apple tree.
So we switched over to Climate Change. Better? Meanwhile glaciers are melting, farmland is drying up and poor souls from the Jersey shore are still sleeping on their friends’ sofas. God I’m tired of this argument.
So let’s move on to a more clear and present danger. Guns. One hundred twenty six Connecticut families are coping with losing their children, siblings, spouses and parents. I really don’t want to debate gun control. The Second Amendment extremists have globbed onto the word “control” and can’t let it out of their cold, dead hearts. They can’t even acknowledge that 11 children made it out of that hell hole because Adam Lanza had to reload. (Magazine capacity, assholes!)
Shockingly, in the 100 days since Newtown, thousands of Americans have lost their lives to gun violence. We’ve got to do something, anything. Could the semantics help? The right wing loves that word, “freedom.” I needed to get into the head of the NRA (shudder) and so I turned to my tea party, evangelical little brother, Ricky, whom I love and respect. He lives in Chandler, Arizona, and shoots rattlesnakes in the desert. He owns enough guns to arm every passenger on a Boeing 747, should snakes really make it on a plane.
I visited the desert in February and carefully broached the subject with Ricky in a movie theater, minutes before “Zero Dark Thirty” was to begin. He was thrilled to “go there.” Sure enough, he had just re-upped his NRA membership, bought one or two new firearms and found a place on the internet to teach you how to piggyback magazines to get around that pesky 10-round limit. I’m pretty sure I’m adopted.
“We don’t want YOUR guns, we want the CRIMINALS’ guns,” I said.
“That’s the first time I heard that,” said Ricky. “You should go tell your lefty friends.”
“Ricky don’t you see you’re doing just what the NRA wants? Stockpiling guns and ammo makes them richer,” I said.
“It makes me safer,” Ricky replied.
Just then the lights dimmed for the previews. Ricky leaned back, put his feet up on the empty seat ahead, patted his hand to his waist, leaned over and whispered, “Admit it, you feel safer, don’t you?”
I put 2 and 22 together and thought to myself, “Hell yeah, I want my little brother to save us all and shoot any crazy, orange-haired bastard who comes in here locked and loaded.”
I’m okay with the good guys having guns. But they have to be responsible and protective of them. And we all have to stand firm when it comes to bad-guy-guns and the mentally ill.
Gun Justice. Gun Liberty. Gun Freedom. Call it what you want, but let’s do something about it.