GUNS

The misguided being guided by control freaks like “Moms Demand Action” were at it here in Taxtopia, previously known as Illinois over the last couple of days. Of course we were treated to the offensive and STUPID “if it saves just one life, taking every gun is worth it.”
I have noticed that these same shitheads do not feel the same way about protesting at “women’s health facilities.” They do not feel the same way about stopping the flood of illegal criminals. They want kid glove treatment for “people of color” (I find that term offensive) selling meth, crack and heroin. In fact they reject the “just one life” argument on every other issue. Do their stairs not go all the way to the top or are they just filthy fuqueing commieass control freaks who want everyone disarmed to move to the next phase of their Chekist wet dreams? Yes, that is absolutely what they want. As long as we have the means to kill them when they attempt their crap, we will be safe and the “just one life” we save may be our own or our families.

My father (a Navy WW2 Vet) had a boyhood friend killed in a hunting accident by a horrific mistake made with a gun.

His father never owned a gun and after his close boyhood friend died in a gun accident he decided he didn’t want anything to do with guns.

During 1944 & 45 he was the (17 & 18 year old) gunner on a team that operated a 20mm pomp pomp gun on an aircraft carrier. That was the only ‘Gun’ he ever fired his entire life, never in combat.

At 14 I brought home a 4/10 shotgun from a friend who was moving up to a 20 gauge and wanted to buy it…my Dad went ballistic (a shotgun had killed his boyhood friend). NOPE. That when I got the story…and there was never, ever going to be a gun in the house.

However, he got me a decent bow with dozens of arrows. With him watching (I trained myself) I became pretty good with it. I still have it. I snuck around with some friends shooting their guns. Never hunted, just wanted to shoot.

Even though I announced at 13 (in 63) and never wavered, against his strong, constant and imploring wishes not to enlist after HS, in 1968 I joined the Marines and became a M-60 machine gunner in the infantry.

WAR

After I came home I did not and would not pick up or be in a room with anyone who I knew had a gun until I was 30.

Once, after I was home a few years at a boyhood friend’s house (who was also a Nam Vet he had been in Motor T and never was in the bush) he proudly brought out a new pistol to show me. I left his place in a huff…he was confused and apologized the next day. I tried to explain to him but it was reflex not rational. I wouldn’t, couldn’t even be in the same room with a gun.

11 years after WAR:

There was serious rising crime around my home…I had a wife and daughter to protect. I was apprehending shoplifters for part of my living in the hood belly of the beast…I was deep into judo and I was good. I was a walking muscle. I wore a belt buckle push dagger and even pulled it out once under a stree lamp sending two potential muggers backing up into the dark lurk they had slipped out of. I was a fearless bad ass…but I was a realist.

I needed a GUN.

I started with the .380 AMT Back Up and the wallet holster it fit into…allowing you to pull it out like you were pulling out a wallet after being ordered to…but slipping it off safe and firing 5 shots in one fluid motion instead of surrendering.

I practiced dry firing with my wallet gun over and over at the imaginary mugger pointing his gun or knife at me in close range or the duo or even trio surrounding me. I had survived two point blank ambushes in Nam…and I knew Bruce Lee was a Deadman Kicking…in the real ‘Gun’ world.

Once I was over the real life trigger pulling trauma hump…over years…then decades I went full bore gun practiced, prepped and pre-determinded to stand against all comers for what ever reason with the great equalizer(s).

My Dad was in his early 70’s when he came to me and asked me for a hand gun I could show him how to shoot…he wanted to protect my Mother and himself. He was worried knowing his walking muscle, bad ass days were long over. Together we went over and over dry firing a good, simple wheel gun.

Thankfully, he never needed it before he went home…but we both had come full circle with guns.