The Real Gun Guys

Another Case of PSH

A recent posting at Silicon Valley Moms Blog exposes an intense case of hopolophobia. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised (this is California after all), but it still amazes me how irrational some people get when exposed to guns, even toy guns. Go read her posting and be amazed… There’s some priceless nuggets of irrational fear in the comments section too, don’t miss them!

Here’s my response to her, in case it disappears, as happens most of the time on hopolophobic’s websites.

“I own several guns. I practice safe gun handling and have never killed anyone, let alone shot anything living. I have a permit and carry a concealed weapon all the time. I lock up my guns in a safe and teach my children gun safety. My son has a cap gun which he treats as if it were real, i.e. not pointing it at people. He must ask to touch any of my guns and is supervised while doing so.

So, are you going to call me a bad parent too?

I happen to agree that it was irresponsible to allow their child to point a toy gun at people, but I feel you’re way overreacting.

Also, calling real cops with real guns in to deal with a child holding a toy is the height of irresponsibility. Are you, nuts?

Just the other day, some hopolophobic idiot on a freeway in Florida called the cops because the car beside her had a child playing with a toy gun. The cops tracked down the license plate number and early the next morning they busted down the door and stormed the house. In the resulting confusion it would have been easy for a cop with an itchy trigger finger to have made a mistake and killed someone. Just because some idiot let their irrational fear get the better of them.

In this world, there are three classes of people, Wolves, Sheep and Sheepdogs. Which one are you? As for me, I choose to be a sheepdog. Everyone is responsible for their own safety.

Because when seconds count, the cops are minutes away. Remember that.”

Thanks to Ride Fast & Shoot Straight for the link and Robb Allen for the icon.

Share/Save

Hoplophobe Shoots, Thankful He’s Still Alive

ZUCK: Have gun, will tremble

Sunday, August 5, 2007 10:50 PM EDT

A weekend in Las Vegas! The lights, the casinos, the shows, the glitz, the noise, the - guns?

“This here’s the easiest to start with. It’s got less kick so it’s easier to control.”

Into my hand he plops a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum revolver. It’s only the second time in my life I’ve actually touched a gun (the first being during a Boy Scout trip). My hand droops under the surprising weight of the pistol. He chuckles. What am I doing here?

It’s Saturday afternoon, and having lost too much money all too quickly at the poker tables, my buddy and I are seeking refuge from the dry Nevada heat at a gun club a few miles off the Strip. We can’t remember whose idea it was, but neither of us thought we’d actually go through with it.

“That’s a great little gun there,” the other salesguy chimes in. “I’m giving one to my niece for her 21st birthday. She’s a fine shot.” I’m not sure whether he’s boasting or poking fun at me - probably both. Apparently, I’m holding a girl’s gun.

“Guns are great to have around,” he continues. “Just like seat belts and fire extinguishers - you don’t know when you’re going to need one, but when there’s an intruder in my house I’ll be glad to have it.” I look around and watch a dozen or so gun-toting, plaid-wearing bearded guys nod in agreement. I decide now’s not the time to mention that children can’t accidentally kill themselves by playing with seat belts and a fire can’t steal your fire extinguisher and use it against you.

Having completed my eight-second firearm tutorial, I don my safety goggles and large red earmuffs and head for the shooting range. Carefully cradling my pistol and a box of 50 .38 Specials to my chest, I ease my way down to lane number six. Every few seconds I violently twitch as another gun is fired; even with ear protection the noise is deafening. I’ll be glad to get out of here without soiling my undergarments.

I take my target - a large off-white sheet featuring a potential intruder’s head and torso - and clip it to the metal pole above me. A flick of a switch sends it flying backward into space. I load my pistol and take aim, briefly wondering how much it hurts to accidentally shoot oneself in the foot.

I squeeze off shot after shot, jumping at the sound of each one. Some people feel powerful with a pistol in their hand; I feel terror. I reload rapidly, hoping I run out of rounds before I run out of luck and end up with nine fingers.

It’s not until I leave that I relax enough to take a look at my target. Though I aimed at my intruder’s heart on every shot, most sailed wide, past his right shoulder. When I find an intruder in my house, I’ll just throw a fire extinguisher at him.

BILL ZUCK, a former Foxboro resident, is relieved to still have all of his digits. You can reach him at wcz78@yahoo.com.

Thanks to Sharp as a Marble for the PSH Alert! icon.
Story found on The High Road.

Share/Save