Once, when I was young, my daddy took me out to the range. And had me shoot a gun.
I was real good at it. Hit the target. Every time.
But I put the gun down. Because the gun wanted me to shoot it.
And I won't take orders. From anyone.
I am glad you put the gun down. peace
When I was young my daddy took me outside and had me shoot a gun too. I was about seven the first time I shot off a .22 pistol. It was an automatic with a puny kick. The next one was a little .410 shotgun and that had a horse kick, knock me over with a 12 gauge. I wasted too much ammo learning to be a lousy shot, so after that I just followed dad around in nature, staying behind him while the dogs scared birds up out of the cover. To this day I cannot hear the sound of quail bursting from the underbrush without flinching to the sound of a shotgun, that's just the way it is. blam I wish I could forget it.
Other things live inside me now too, molecular. We are connected by the shock and the awe, the strange and the awful. I never dreamed these things would happen in real life. Man, I still cannot believe you said "people are basically good" after everything. Tubbs is still the thing that touched everything here. Also nothing. And today you write about not picking up a gun, who told you that? I wish I knew it myself.
love and hugs
Here in the south where you cling to your gun and your bible, Sundays seems to be the day to get out and shoot. Our nearest neighbor is a mile away, yet Sundays you can hear them ...blam blam blam or a shotgun's baaaaroom. I wonder if it is just tradition or if it's the way folks unwind after hearing about hell and damnation.
At any rate, I'm glad you put down the weapon, hecate. Walk in peace. I'm not called by guns, but I do have a couple. I had to kill a rabid coon a few years back. A neighbor's horse was bitten by an infected animal several years ago and got rabies....never had heard of a horse with rabies till then. I don't hunt, but hold out the possibility if things do really collapse.
“Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
guns and freedom get mixed up sometimes
Listen to your higher mind.
Whispering my name from across the room. Persuasively seductive. Dreams of the glistening mirror glaze covering layers of chocolate raspberry filling. Crumbs in my bed. Frosting still on my lips when I wake up in the morning.
Black Forest Madness. Must Stop.
If we surrendered to earth's intelligence we could rise up rooted, like trees
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
options rendered possible by my negligible earnings by means of hunting, seriously hunting for food, for protein, for sustenance. I dwelt in the forest, in an area surrounded by forest, edible "game", and folks who minded their own business. Locals who had lived on and off of the land for generations taught me the fine points in general and with respect to the specific terroir. I stopped long ages ago, not crazy about what I did and I don't like killing. I didn't then either, which may have been a factor in my approach and attitude toward so doing and toward "sport" hunters. After years in the peace movement, it was a bit dissonant and conflicted, to say the least. Nonetheless, I'm still an omnivore - the lazy way out, perhaps, but thee it is.
Edited because wasn't intended as a reply to anybody
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
who hunts and fishes. But he only kills what he intends to eat. While I could not do that, I respect that from a hunter if that is all he does.
"I don't want to run the empire, I want to bring it down!" ~Dr. Cornel West
"There is no instance of a nation benefitting from prolonged warfare." Sun Tzu
"Propaganda is one hell of a drug." Abby Martin
Shit, now I want black forest cake. I know what I'm making for Valentine's day now!
This shit is bananas.
Cake pan while you're at it!
#4 Shit, now I want black forest cake. I know what I'm making for Valentine's day now!
Here's one I made a couple years ago.
#4.2.1 Here's one I made a couple years ago.
I know this sounds weird because I think everyone in this country has probably at least held a gun. My parents did not believe in guns. Maybe that is because my father fought in Okinawa during WWII and was severely wounded by enemy machine gun fire.
What's interesting is that I never really wanted to hold a gun or shoot one. It was not important to me.
To clarify, I did once shoot a paint gun at a tree, but never a real gun.
we moved into our house, and I was busily arranging things that first day, I opened a cabinet under the kitchen sink and discovered a pistol tucked into one of those plastic wash bins between some legacy cleaning items.
Horrified, I toppled over onto my bum. Then I slammed the cabinet shut. What the hell am I supposed to do with this? I wondered. And how did we miss this on the walk-through?
I must've been dumbfounded on the floor for quite some time, because eventually my partner realized I was being awfully quiet and came looking for me. Stupidly, I pointed at the cabinet, which he opened. And then burst out laughing.
The pistol was actually a water gun.*
That illustrates the extent of my firearm knowledge, which is exactly how I like it!
*In my defense, it's pretty realistic-looking, and we decided that's why the home's previous owner, an elderly woman who lived alone, had it in the first place.
I mean, let's be frank here. The entire raisin d'état of a hand gun is to kill. That should horrify us.
guns are also used to threaten and / or intimidate, perhaps more so than to make big bangs. Witness the "open carry" laws the NRA loves so much. I see them more of a sign of cowardice with some.
I would think we've got limited experience with guns. I can think of only two instances for me. Summer camp at the age of 10 when I was in the "riflery contest", which was BB guns. And 16 when I visited my older sister and her boyfriend out in the country and I shot at soda pop cans with a shotgun.
That was enough for me.
(I know military vets have a different story)
weird(enough already!), but I view the firearms dilemma the same way I do abortion.
If you’re opposed, don’t get one.
Ya got to be a Spirit, cain't be no Ghost. . .
I'm still pretty meh, still don't really get the appeal-at least the extreme worship of them. Living in the country you gotta have at least one around though, I get that.
My friends lived in the country and had a skeet shooting range and they asked me if I wanted to try it. I said, "Pull" and blew it out of the air. Should have seen the look on their faces.
See, magiamamma? I told you I have great eye hand coordination, but still can't draw worth beans.
The public has been conditioned over time—in ways that would make Pavlov’s dawg seem like an in independent thinker
A springfield .22, a couple of shotguns (single and double barrel), and a .222 "deer rifle". They were tools for harvesting meat that helped the family budget. My dad got the .222 because he knew with our experience with the springfield we wouldn't miss. Ever. And we didn't. Every animal I ever shot fell in its tracks. The standard 30.06 can ruin a lot of meat not to mention that a lot of gun nuts like to use an even "manlier" gun. Idiots all.
So, first deer: 12 years old. But, by 15 I realized there was no sport in any of this and was pretty turned off by it all. Plus, our family didn't need to supplement our diet with game meat anymore (thanks to the local carpenter's union for that). I used a bow and arrow from 15 to 17 and realized that was, while more sporting, also potentially more cruel.
At that point, I switched to "hunting" with a camera.
I occasionally wonder whether the venison I remember would still taste so good today. Or whether that was the growing teenager craving protein speaking.
I'm mostly vegetarian these days. But if you cook it, I'll help make sure it doesn't go to waste.
Now if only someone could come up with a cure for the tinnitus that accompanies me everywhere and is almost assuredly from an early life of decibel trauma that would be great.
Shorter version: Yep, guns suck, independent kids are the best, and if you publish a book of your poetry I'll buy it.
We used up SO many rolls in our cap guns, then figured out if you left the roll, well, Rolled, and placed it on a rock and smashed it with Another rock, it made a really Loud bang with no cap gun needed.
What can I say? Brainwashed kids at 7yrs old.
@Tall Bald and Ugly
All I had were rocks to make a bang. I’m glad the rocks were the trigger. I don't think I would have enjoyed shooting the caps in the gun as much. Not quite as captivating as banging on a dot of gunpowder with a rock to release magic.
#12 We used up SO many rolls in our cap guns, then figured out if you left the roll, well, Rolled, and placed it on a rock and smashed it with Another rock, it made a really Loud bang with no cap gun needed.
What can I say? Brainwashed kids at 7yrs old.