I love firearms, weapons, things that go "boom." You really don't understand how much admiration I have for these things, you really don't. Not in an obsessive, right wing, I-feel-the-need-to-protect-myself sort of way, but in an appreciation of the devastating power these instruments project. It is not unlike the admiration a storm chaser experiences staring down a tornado or, on a grand scale, flying into the eye of a hurricane.
One would expect such appreciation to close my eyes to the fact that the United States leads the world in gun violence. Truth be told, I am used to this fact, not unlike the fact that my nation does not have universal health care unlike other nations. But just because that's the way things have always been done, that does not make what has been done inherently a good idea.
The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, or "right to bear arms," is almost a mantra to gun owners. Like a mantra, it is uttered in reverence, in motivation, in deference and also indifferently when confronted with the dark side of this coin. For every "law abiding" citizen who enjoys this right, there are other citizens with less intent to abide the law who enjoy the right. Still, many gun owners will say that this only reinforces their need to own a firearm. Multiple firearms, in strategic locations around the house. But that's just not enough for some, which brings in the issue of high-capacity magazines. Some argue that the magazines give a person an edge in defending themselves, but there are others who'd disagree. I'm more than certain Sen. Gabrielle Giffords can vouch for the fact that high-capacity gun magazines aren't the best thing anyone can own.
I can definitely say on my end, that the ownership of high-capacity magazines is foolish and pointless. It didn't impede the Virginia Tech shooter from gunning down 32 people. High-capacity magazines don't make you look badass, or cool, or even remotely proficient in the use of firearms. To those of us who know how to handle our steel, you look like a novice, an amateur or as they say, "a fuckin' rook." I've seen you, you lover of extra rounds on the range. I'm the guy firing center mass with less than an inch difference between shots. Yeah that was me, the guy who rolled his eyes and refused to talk to you. You're an embarrassment to true marksmen, and that M4 you painted pink with a Hello Kitty face on the stock for your girlfriend? Alright, yes, that was cute and I'm probably going to buy one for my girl, but my girl doesn't need more than a 15-round magazine. Meanwhile I got a good giggle out of watching her freak out when an expended shell landed on her jacket.
If my words have not deflated your desire to run out and buy a 50-round drum magazine for your AR-15, then remember this: Learn to fucking reload. Because if you can't take the guy down with the 15 you already have, you may as well point the business end of your nickel-plated sissy pistol at yourself; that's the only head-shot you'll ever score.
Respectfully (I guess?),
Rey Ignatius Fawkes
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