Make no mistake: I own guns and I will shoot you either to injure you for your own protection, or outright kill you should you threaten to bring, or carry-out, harm to my family or myself. And the only 911 call I will make will be to request an ambulance to take your dead and bleeding body out of my house.
Are you shocked at this? Does this make you want to see me locked away? Am I now a threat to society? Do you think I am some mindless redneck who took his sister to the Junior Prom and impregnated her behind the 7-11?
Like I care.
My guns are just an extension of who and what I am. Tools, simply, to carry out my will. They won’t kill you. I will. One way or the other. But only if you warrant it or ask for it through arrogance and a deluded sense of self-importance. In simpler terms, if you fucking try to impose your ill-will upon me.
Suck on that for a while.
Okay, listen. I could rant on and on and hypothesize and speculate and blah blah blah, but here’s the deal:
Why do people like guns? Why shouldn’t people like guns?, is the question.
I know, I know, guns are constantly vilified and hated and all that, thanks to the efforts of a few mentally unstable jackasses of recent note. I get that.
But damn. Guns are so much more than what the gun-haters think of them.
Why do I like guns? Simple. They require discipline, practice, knowledge, familiarity, patience, education, wisdom, and respect. Guns, then, to me, are perfect. They fulfill all my character desires and needs, outside of carnal and parental. (knowhuti’msayin’?)
Anyhoos. I honestly believe that if the folks who hate guns, for no other reason than to resurrect the dead who have been killed by madmen, would come with me one day to the local shooting range and experience the thrill of the shot, the patience of the technique, the discipline of the grip and the squeeze, the smell of the carbide, the minor pain in the shoulder at the end of the day, the muffled sound of gun blasts through the protective earmuffs, and the paper target with the holes as evidence of their abilities…well…they would change their minds. Just sayin’.
I am accustomed to heavy rifles and bigger rounds. I mean, I dig the .223 and all that, but it just leaves me feeling a bit unsatisfied.
The .308 and even the mildly smaller .270 feel good to me, and I appreciate their existence, but…well…I want a .458, dammit, and that’s all there is to it.
I do realize, of course, that the ammo needed to feed this sexy beast of a gun is stupid expensive and hard to find (what ammo isn’t right now?), but I am prepared to commit myself to it. If this means I will need to eat beans and rice, rice and beans for a year, so be it. What good is a full belly if you’re not truly free?
No politics. No stereotypes. No presumptions, assumptions, or egghead studies.
No wanna-be basement-dwelling ‘tough guys’ who are surrounded by old and defunct issues of ‘Soldier of Fortune’ magazine, or freakshow apocalyptic sycophants of Alex Jones, puppets of Glenn Beck, or statist/progressive/liberal/Democrat/fascist/socialist jackasses. Not here. Not ever.
Guns. Gun culture. Guns.
Here at Gun Culture. Unapologetic., we will be looking at guns, gun blogs, gun reviews, gun writers, gun issues, gun porn (yes, it’s out there, but it isn’t what you think), and gun culture as a whole.
Leave your politics at the door, kindly take off your boots, and step inside. I’d like to talk about all the things we know of that are related to guns, if you don’t mind.
–Sunday 21 April 2013