I wouldn’t mind living on the street and eating garbage if I knew our Second Amendment was protected.
I’ll remember that when I get the drop on you and force you to eat garbage off the street at gunpoint.
Nah brah, just kidding. But it’s funny how often you run into this particular sort of sticking point on the subject of guns. The bad consequences I can envision for the person on the other side of the argument are precisely the ones I’m least willing to see happen.
Every time I see someone open-carrying–which thank goodness isn’t often–I have this powerful urge to sneak up behind them, poke them in the back of the head with my fingers, and say “bang!” Sort of like counting coup on them. What good was your lethal fashion accessory if you were so (reasonably) complacent about your own safety you weren’t paying any attention to the guy walking up directly behind you?
Except, of course, that powerful urge is suppressed by the vastly MORE powerful urge not to get shot, or get innocent bystanders shot. So in a weird way the gun-fondler “wins” the “argument” I was having with him in my mind. His gun really did prevent my “crime!”
