Wednesday, January 18, 2006

It Just Hits You

Mark (Firehand) at Irons in the Fire asks what first got our (my) attention about gun control.

So, what was it?

I knew about it before age 22, when I undertook an ongoing project to build a legal AR-15 in California, which is legal by virtue of the name stamped on the receiver.

I knew about it before age 21, when I was able to first purchase a handgun on my own, after said handgun had been subjected to numerous idiotic tests to be "certified." Then, pay over $40 in fees and wait ten days to pick it up, and be escorted outside by the dealer before being allowed to take possession of my legally owned property.

I knew about it before age 20, when I volunteered to help fight fires in San Diego county and triage burn victims. I am a certified first responder. However, when a friend was arrested for "brandishing a firearm" at thugs that were trying to get into his house he was evacuating, I knew that the gun laws were warped.

I knew about it before age 18, when I was first able to purchase a longarm. I knew when the clerk at Big 5 told me I had to wait ten days to hold what was essentially mine (I paid for it already!) and that he couldn't sell me ammo before I locked the gun in my car.

I knew about it before age 11, when the AWB was first drafted, when my mother sold my autoloading .22 (I don't even know what it was) because she mistakenly thought it would be illegalized in the ban. I'm still afraid to talk about it with her, but I assume she was probably a victim on the early MSM.

I knew about it at age 4 and 5. Before my father died, he used to take me shooting once a month. I had a little Savage single-shot .22 pistol, and he had his guns. He taught me the fundamentals but also that some people disliked guns. In fact, that some people hated us for owning guns, and that the first chance they got, they'd take them from us.

Of course, that last bit caused my young mind to have nightmares about trying to shoot a dog that was going to attack me, only to have my gun snatched away at the last minute by a maniacally laughing clown. Which got my dad in some hot water with my mom, when I told her what he told me. "Don't scare the boy!"

Come to think of it, an insane clown is a pretty decent analogy for the gun grabbers today. Stupid, ridiculous and ludicrous to behold, they nevertheless hate you and are dangerous. Little did I know, 17 years ago, I'd be writing about a juvenile dream on a complex network of computing systems, and the dream would make perfect sense.