ready…aim…what?

a recent comment post from josh got me thinking about a stop we made in killeen. the place was called guns galore. and the name of the joint FIT. but the comment got me thinking about gun shops in general. does it really GET any more “manly” than gun shops? i only put the term in quotes because, in my opinion, it’s not the true definition of the term. but in the generic, stereotypical sense? oh yeah, game on.

my first experience of this was when the brady bill came out. i was with my friend lance as HE was shopping for a new pistol for work (relax…he’s a cop). while he was browsing about, this guy behind the counter was going off on how his second amendment rights were now being stepped all over ’cause you could no longer buy guns with a mag capacity of over ten rounds. “what the FUCK?”, he said. “so, if i have a NEWER gun with only ten rounds, and ‘he’ (whoever ‘he’ may be) has one with the older, fifteen round version, i’m up shit creek!!!”.

actually, from where i’m standing, if you’re in a position where the ammo capacity is a survival issue in your world, you’re ALREADY up shit creek. and in the rapids section. for that matter, if you can’t “do what you got to do” in ten rounds or less, than you really don’t need a bigger magazine…you need to take a firearms course and learn to AIM.

takes me back to that day with lance…i was looking at shotguns, and this guy comes up and hands me one. “check THIS shit out…”, he purrs, obviously already aroused by what he’s about to say, “mossberg…twelve gauge…pistol grip, pump-action, police issue (he pauses to wipe his chin) barrel shroud so it never gets too hot to hold, and a shell capacity of eight on deck, one in the chamber…” he excuses himself to go squeeze off a few rounds in private (leaving the gun behind, just so y’all know how that was meant) and i just look at it. when he returns to me he adds, “and that eight rounds CAN be increased to ten, if need be”.

“if need be”? if you have the “need” for more than eight rounds of shotgun ammo, you NEED to watch who you piss off. and take more friends along when you do. if anyone’s stupid enough to hang with your “i give the finger to bikers for giggles” ass. but you know how i know that none of these arguments for bigger, harder, faster guns that can shoot through SUVs and such hold any water? ’cause there’s one thing you hardly ever, EVER see in a gun shop…

WOMEN

because a woman will look at mossberg boy stroking the barrel (of the shotgun, that is…just to clarify) and think to herself “how small IS it, anyway?”. and in this case, i think she might be right. gun shops are basically a freudian field day waiting to happen (bring a lunch!!!). and they all hide under the “blanket” of the second amendment. the one that includes the phrase “the right to keep and bare arms shall not be infringed”. but that’s only PART of it. that’s selective interpretation. that’s like saying one of the commandments is pro-murder because it says “thou shalt…kill”, leaving out the “not” part.

it includes the phrase “in order to maintain a well regulated militia, the right to keep and bare…”. we have a well regulated militia. it’s called the national guard. and the army. and the marines. etc. etc. etc. this was written when it was still basically every state for itself, and BEFORE the army national guard was established in each state. plus, is IS supposed to be we regulated. that means they (they being our somewhat elected officials) have the right to say that you DON’T need armor-piercing, poison-tipped, explode-on-impact fourty-five caliber shells to hunt DEER. you DON’T. get over it. until bambi starts to shoot back.

and speaking of bambi, to all you strippers out there who took THAT stage name, you DO know bambi was a DUDE, right? remember, in the movie, he falls for a FEMALE deer, and has all male friends? do you think the guys at disney were THAT forward thinking in their support of lesbian culture? i’ll admit, it’s not the most masculine guy name, but it WAS a guy. and once again, i digress…

where was i?

oh yeah…stay outta my booze.