guns


I don’t want to wait anymore.

I don’t want to wait for them to be on our side.

I don’t want to wait for the change to happen.

I don’t want to wait for more people to die.

I don’t want to wait for it to get better.

How much blood must flow while I wait?

How much blood before it gets better?

How much blood before it stops?

It doesn’t get better when people die.

It doesn’t get better when it’s blow after blow.

Just make it stop.

Now.

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It started with a simple set of questions… “Dad, what are people doing? Why don’t they want other people to marry? Why don’t they do anything about global warming? Why are they always fighting?”

How do I tell her? How. Do. I. Tell. Her?

1001, 1002, 1003, die… 1004, 1005, 1006, dead…

How do I tell her that every 3 seconds a child dies from something that we could’ve stopped? From hunger. From not enough food. From not having an apple. Or clean drinking water. Or just a little porridge in the morning. That we have it in our power to stop it if we want. But we choose not to. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that our friends can’t marry because some people just hate their love too much? That love is sometimes not enough. That caring for each other is not what everyone else thinks should be. That the insecurities of the heart and soul of others drive hate instead of seeing the love. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that some people talk freedom but don’t believe in it? That freedom is freedom even if we don’t like what others do or say. That freedom to marry. Freedom to love. Freedom to see the love of your life die in hospital. That these freedoms are killed by bigots every day. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her the pursuit of happiness is denied for most? That it’s a lie that we are told by so many who deny the happiness of others. That justice, equality and liberty is claimed by many but believed and practiced by few. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her people believe in carrying guns that kill but don’t believe in caring for love? That it’s okay to defend the right to carry a weapon of hatred in your holster but not love in your heart. That it’s okay to defend the right to carry that gun but not the right to love? How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that I don’t know what our earth will look like in her future? That maybe we are killing this world of ours with our greed and want. That wanting, buying, driving, wearing, making, living, eating too much and all those things we do might be killing our world slowly. So slowly that we argue while the pot is starting to boil. Like frogs we are killing ourselves slowly. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that most people don’t really believe in human rights? That they speak of it as if they care and are willing to fight for it and die for it. But that they will deny others those same human rights. Their right not to be tortured. Their right to marry. Their right to choose. Their right to believe and love who they want. They deny it all. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that people are willing to let their fellow Americans die. That they can stop it but they choose to look the other way and walk away? That a public option will save lives but some of us are too selfish and scared and would rather offer up American lives. American blood. All because they don’t care to care. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that so many men carry hate in their hearts. They rape. They kill. They take away. That these are men we see and know. But we don’t see and we don’t know. That it’s okay to love the world. But be careful with who you trust. They will hurt you if they can because we know of those who are dead and missing. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her to not trust the man who speaks of God because they use and abuse His name? That they will hate in His name. That they will lie in His name. That they will give Him different names and still be full of hate and lies. That the hate and lies is preached by bigots claiming every religion – Christian, Jew, Hindu, Muslim – you name it. That it’s okay to love God but to not trust those who speak in His name. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her that there are mad men in caves wanting to kill a dream? That there are enemies everywhere willing to take lives. Innocent lives. And that we live in so much fear that we are willing to do the same as them. We are willing to let innocent people die because of our own fears. That we play into the hand of the warmongers with our weakness of fear. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her all this and so much more? Racism. Discrimination. Child labor. Obesity. Diseases. Sexism. And all this stuff waiting out there in the world. How do I tell her?

How do I tell her all this? How do I tell her that if we all just wasted a little less. Wanted a little less. Cared a little more. Believed a little more. Loved a little more. Spoke out a little louder. Did a little more…

How do I tell her that I see the faces of those kids dying? I know their names in my dreams. That they are my kids. Our kids. Not a number. Her kids.

How do I tell her that I feel the love of my friends being denied? That I only feel threatened because they are being denied the right to love and live in love the way I do? They they are not gay. That they are me. They are her.

How do I tell her I believe in freedom? That it’s worth fighting for even when others are trying to kill it with their freedom-my-way-or-no-way lies and bigotry and double standards. That I fight for the rights for all because I fight for her rights.

How do I tell her I don’t believe in guns? That I hate guns. That guns have killed in my family. That I will still defend those who want the right to have a gun. But that I expect them to fight and defend the right of my friends to love just as hard. That those rights are all hers.

How do I tell her that I don’t know everything about global warming? That I don’t know the science that well. But that I know that it’s better to be safe than sorry. That I will fight for this planet because it is all we have. The only one we have. It’s all I can give her. This little planet in the middle of nowhere is her planet.

How do I tell her that human rights means we have to give it to everyone? To those who are like us. Who love like us. Who live like us. Who believe like us. And those who don’t believe like us. Don’t want to be us. That human rights means we take the higher road and don’t torture. That human right means we allow everyone to be treated the same way we are treated. In love and in marriage. And that I will speak out and fight for those rights. Every single day until we all have it. Because it is her rights.

How do I tell her I believe in justice, equality and liberty? That I believe it is fundamental to who we are and how we want to live. Even though other say it but don’t live it or truly believe it through action. That I will fight for her to have justice. That I will stand up for her to have equality. And I will defend her liberty. Because justice, equality and liberty are hers.

How do I tell her that I don’t want these Americans we live with to die? That I want them to live. I want to help look after them. I want them to have an option to get looked after when they are sick. And that the only option for them is a government option. That I have not option but support an option that will let Americans live. Because I believe that Americans are good. And that it is our duty to love them and respect them and help look after them. Because we are them. American health is her health.

How do I tell her not all men are bad? That there are good men out there. Men who love and care. Men we can trust. And that it’s worth trusting and finding the men we can believe in and trust. That we men will fight those who hurt. Because these are her men.

How do I tell her that God is good? That it is okay to believe and not be part of the lies told by those who claim Him – no matter what they call Him. That God is good and God is love. That I will fight for Him and claim Him back from those who use and abuse His name. Who lie and spread hate in His name. Because He is her God.

How do I tell her not to fear the mad man in the cave or anyone else who lives to hate? That fear is not what makes us who we are. That love makes us who we are. That the love we have is stronger than the hate of others. That love should never be seen as a weakness. Because I will fight for it. Because this love is her love. My love for her. My gift to her. Love.

How do I tell her that when I am alone in my thoughts… On the bus. Running. In a hotel. Flying. That I cry inside when I am alone. And sometimes I cry on the outside for all these strangers to see. Thinking of this. Knowing that I don’t know what we are doing. That I don’t know what we are leaving for her tomorrow. For her future. Her world. I just don’t know.

I don’t know what world she will inherit from us. I don’t know what world we will leave behind. For her. And for her kids.

But I do know that I will fight for what I believe in. I will fight for her rights. Her right to love, believe, be free, have no fear, carry a gun, marry who she wants. her right to be herself. My big angel. Because I love her. And it’s all I can give her.

I want to tell her that the world is full of good people. That every single day I work with people who make this world a little better. One step at a time. Sometimes small but always forward. I want to tell her we will fight the good fight. Every single day. There are more of us than what the world might think. And we are strong. And we will never give up.

I want to tell her I do what I do because of her. That I see her face when I work. I see her face when I fight for what is right. I see her face when I live my life. It drives me. I want to leave her a world to be proud of. I want to leave her a dad to be proud of.

But I don’t. I don’t tell her any of this…

I take her hand and we dance on a Saturday. I joke with her and I tickle her. I play with her and I tease her. I help her with her homework and I say I’m proud of her great work. I have fun with her and walk her to the bus stop. I hang out with her and watch Harry Potter with her. I lie watching music videos with her and write silly stuff to her on Facebook. Sometimes we talk about Madiba or God and space-time limitations. Or science and mathematics. Geography or food. Even a little bit of serious stuff like politics and rights. And then I talk to her about crazy silly things and give her my books to read. I pull her finger and burp as loud as I can. I go mess up her bed and chase her around. I just do the things a crazy silly stupid dad is meant to do. Because she is my girl. My oldest girl. My big angel. And I’m just her dad. That’s all I want to be. The cool guy who loves her more than life.

She is my Ubuntu. I am because we are.

So I don’t tell her. But I know. I know we have to fix this world to make it ready for her. She deserves nothing less. She is perfect. She needs a perfect world.

We’ve got work to do. My big angel is coming and I’ve got a world to clean and get ready…

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I’ve been asked about my “anger” many times. What do you have to be “Angry” about? Why are you the “Angry African”? Why indeed…

I would rather have a good meal. Maybe help my wife prepare the food. Get the table ready. Talk about whether we should have brocolli or peas or carrots to go with the maple syrup chicken and roast potatoes she just made. That’s what I would rather do. Just have a good meal together with my family. Sitting at the table and laughing at the silliness of my daughters. Making funny noises and joking with their mother. Good times. Me, my family and a good meal. I would rather have a good meal. No need for anger here.

But how can I? How can I just have a meal when I know that somewhere out there in Zambia is a family arguing about how they divide the last of the nsima. Maybe this will be the last meal they share together. Because tomorrow brings no food and no hope. Maybe tomorrow the kids will have to go down to the charity handing out food and slip some away for ma and pa back home. But will grandma make it? Can she wait another 24 hours before she gets a little something to eat. No laughing or poking of fun. Not when the bones on their bodies are poking hard at their skin. How can there be no anger?

I would rather watch telly. Just vegetate and do nothing. Stare blankly at the screen. Flip channels because I can’t decide between CSI Miami or Kitchen Nightmares. Or maybe I should watch that Bond movie I taped? Or watch Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King again? Yeah. That’s what I want to do. Just stare at the telly and think of nothing. No anger here.

But how can I? How can I stare at the telly when tonight someone might be staring at the barrel of a gun somewhere in the Congo? No channels for them to watch. Maybe tonight will be the last time they see anything. I can change the channel but they can’t change their lives. I can play with the remote but they are here. Waiting for me to think of them. Always hiding somewhere in my conscious. Waiting to flip the channel of my brain to their station. No static. Just their lives waiting to be changed while they live a reality life. How can there be no anger?

I would much rather read a good book. Maybe just finish one of the many I am reading right now. Should I go with Mao and his killing or read about hope through the eyes of Obama? Maybe just get away from all that stuff and laugh at Bill Bryson telling me about A Short History of Nearly Everything. Aah. That what I want to do. Just read my book and let my mind slip away for a little bit. No anger here.

But how can I? How can I read a book when tomorrow the children will go and work those cocoa fields? The pages they flip are the pages of their life going past. One empty page after the other. Or maybe it is a horror. The horror of their lives. Living a Stephen King life larger than even he can imagine. But maybe some khat will help numb the pain. At least it will take away the glint in their eyes. And the empty pages of their life can be seen in their empty stares. How can there be no anger?

I would much rather play with my kids. Play outside like the crazy gang we are. Wild splashing we call swimming down at the lake. And go down that snowy hill when winter comes. Just me and my girls. Crazy, crazy, crazy. All I want is to hear their laughing and more laughing at their silly dad. Egging them on. Come on! You can do it girl! That’s what I would much rather want. Me and my crazy girls. Having fun. No anger here.

But how can I? When the other kids are running away from the warlord down the road. Playing dodgeball with the bullets. Not a sound of joy and belly laughs to be heard coming from their mouths. Just cries of pain as the bullets hit. Lucky if it misses. Dodge, dodge, dodge. That the games they play in the Congo. How can there be no anger?

I would must rather lie next to my wife. Falling asleep and hearing her breathe next to me. I can feel the stress of the day just slip away. Here is where I belong. Always telling her how much I love her. I can never say it too much or too often. And I run home because that is where I want to be. Just there next to her. My lovely wife. The one who gives me meaning. No anger here.

But how can I? When the women in Africa have to walk miles and miles just to get a drop of water for their homes. Every day. Down to the river and back. In the rush forgetting to boil it clean. And they see their families die around them. From a simple thing like drinking dirty water. How can I look at my wife and not see those women carry Africa on their backs being beaten and beaten and beaten. Day in and day out. Rape and murder. That’s what lies next to them at night. Death and destruction giving them meaning. How can there be no anger?

I would much rather just go on holiday. Maybe take a trip to Europe and visit those fancy French. Some cheese and red wine. Aah, that’s the life. Or laugh and point at Mickey and Minnie down at Disney. Maybe get away for just a week or two and visit my friend back home. Another trip to Bucks County would be nice. Just me and my three girls. Hanging out in New Hope for a drink and maybe a small piece of memory for the mantle. No anger here.

But how can I? When the only break my people get is another trade deal that fails. Or another empty promise for those dying of aids or malaria. Or the breaking of another leg as the torture continues in countries down South and East. But also here in the North and West. Broken promises to go with their broken lives. How can there be no anger?

I really just want to hang with my friends. Or drink a coffee by myself. Sip by sip. A braai and a good old fire. Learn to play the guitar like I’ve always wanted. Or write that bloody book that’s been bugging me for years. Save some money and retire early. Go for a drive in my car to watch the leaves go all rainbow in fall. The good things. That’s all I ever really want to do. Take it easy and stay easy. A smile, a laugh and good times.

I don’t want anger. I hate anger. It’s not nice. And it is not me.

Why am I angry?

I know happiness. I know what it is. I have it. Oh boy, do I have it. But I can’t enjoy it. At least not the way I want to enjoy it… Fully. I want to give myself totally to happiness. I want to live my happy days by throwing myself at it. Just living it 24/7.

That’s what pisses me off. That I can’t just enjoy life because of bigots. Because of liberty for some. Equality for those who can afford it. Freedom for those who were born free. Justice for those at the top.

I am angry because I can’t enjoy my life thanks to oppression of others. My right to have a fun time is shot to hell because of the rights of others being shot to hell. Bullet by bullet. Every warlord pisses me off because they remind me of what I am missing because of them. They are taking away my happiness because they are taking away the happiness of others.

I am angry because my friends and people I don’t even know can’t just love who they want. I love my wife. I love my wife. But the more I love her the more I am reminded of those who can’t love the way we love. That their love is somehow less meaningful than our love. I am pissed at bigots taking away happiness because they are taking away the rights of others.

I am pissed and angry for purely selfish reasons. I don’t want to fight for the rights of kids to have a shot at a life. I don’t want to fight for justice in the world trade and aid system. I don’t want to fight for the freedom of African women. I don’t want to fight for the equality of my gay friends who want to get married. I don’t want to fight for the liberty of the slaves working the sweatshops or farms in China or Africa. I don’t want to do all this crap. I want nothing to do with any of this.

I. Do. Not. Want. To. Do. This.

I just want to sit back and enjoy my life. Just me, my girls and my friends. Happy times. Good times.

But I can’t. And that is what pisses me off. That is what makes me angry. That is what makes me the Angry African.

I can only go do nothing when there is nothing to be done. When others can afford to do nothing. When everyone has a shot. You bloody people. With your rights and freedoms and liberty and equality and justice. Just have it already.

Fuck. Dammit. And everything and anything else that go with that.

I am because we are. Ubuntu.

I can only stop caring about what to watch on telly when there is nothing to care about. I can only be happy watching my kids go crazy when you have a shot at happiness. I can only have the liberty to drink my coffee sip after slow sip when you have liberty. I can only have my braai in peace when you have peace. I can only be the equal of my wife when we all are equal. I can only have justice when you have justice.  My freedom is your freedom…

I can only be free when you are free.

I can only be me when you can be you.

Until then… I am the Angry African.

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Here we go again…

1. They virtually found Bin Laden

It’s been going on for months. Hunting down the Recruiters. Those terrorists who prey on the young and vulnerable. These terrorists are smart. They play the game the way the kids do. It starts with a chat. And it moves on to training at a special place – behind the guarded gates. Well, we now know the terrorists are hiding just behind those gates. If only we knew how to get in. You never know. Bin Laden might be hiding behind those walls. Who knows. Who knows. Problem is that the gates are difficult to get past. Not only is it heavily guarded, but it is virtually coded. What? I am talking about the government agency IARPA hunting down terrorists in the virtual gaming world. IARPA is not a character name, but out there to find new and innovative ways to hunt down terrorists. Cool idea. Really. No, really. I think they should try every angle to find those bastards. You never know, we might at last find out where Bin Laden has been hiding… Problem is that it seems as if they are struggling just as much to find virtual terrorists than real ones. So far they have only managed to hunt down a few kids who fit the profile. Wonder if they have thought of having a virtual “Gitmo” as well? Hey, torture is allowed in the virtual world. No need for a memo there.

2. The dark side of Global Warming

A lot have been said about Global Warming. The debate is raging on and on and on. Every scientist forms a new group with a new theory. Some deny it and other tell us about the new apocalypse. It’s become part of our cultural debate. Day in and day out. Households are torn. Father deny it’s getting hotter – it’s just the central heating that needs to be turned down. Daughters cry and accuse their parents of killing this little world they hoped to inherit. Friends are arguing in the ballparks (is Manny getting thinner because of the sauna affect?) and debating in the bars. Yes. It’s Global Warming – the OJ trail of nature. But we might just have reached tipping point. Where all those SUV and pick-up driving deniers of Global Warming might have met their maker. They are turning to the pro side now. Urging government to do something before this world of ours goes up in a ball of smoke. And who should we thank? Beer! Yes, good old beer. It seems as if Global Warming will hit that one place that really hurt – the beer belly. Beer experts (not the “expert” drinking type) are saying that those precious crops are in danger of getting hit by the hotter weather. So we won’t even be able to have a cold one when the frying starts. (Damn. Damn you all.) Now that is something that will get everyone hot under the collar.

3. Are you just happy to see me?

Is that a _______ in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? In Frisco – city of fun – it got a whole new meaning this week. San Francisco voted a while back that they wanted to ban all handguns in the city. I think they thought they were already a barrel of fun and didn’t need anything more to prove that they are men. I don’t know if it was because I visited them earlier in the week, but the “will of the people” of San Francisco was overturned this week. The ban on handguns got overturned – thank you NRA. Now the place where men are well… pretty much anything they want to be, can carry their concealed weapons again. And we can again ask them – is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me? Actually, I don’t know if it needs to be concealed or whether it means they can just let it all hang out. It is Frisco after all. Back to “if you’ve got it – flaunt it” I guess.

4. McCain and Jeffrey Dahmer

These so-called Conservatives just don’t know about being subtle do they? And one of the speakers, David Bellavia, said, “Rest assured that people like Senator McCain will be the goal and the men that my two young boys will emulate an admire. You can have your Tiger Woods. We have Senator McCain.” Now where do I even start with this? Was he trying to be funny? About the best golfer in the world? You want to tell me there wasn’t a racial tone in this? That people should support Phil Michelson and not the black dude that is beating his ass week in and week out? Okay – let’s play the race game. “Rest assured that people like Senator Obama will be the goal and the men that my two young girls will emulate an admire. You can have your Jeffrey Dahmer (or any other bad white dude). We have Senator Obama.” Puh-lease. Stop the racial slurs – you are not even being subtle. You are just being stupid. Next thing is you will start calling the Vietnamese gooks. Oh, sorry – you did.

5. RIP Robert Mugabe… or maybe not

Bob, Bob, Bob. What the hell are we going to do with you? I mean really. This is not even funny anymore. You control the newspapers. You control the television. You control the radio. You control the farms. You control the army. You control the police. You control the economy. Oh, sorry – you don’t control the economy. Not at 100,000% inflation. (Not a joke.) But you control everything in Zimbabwe except the economy and your wife’s shopping at Harrod’s. You even control the judicial system and the elections. You set up the Zim election body and filled it with your guys. And then you somehow still manage to lose the election! How the bloody hell did you get that right? I mean come on. You are giving tyrants across the world a bad name. At least you are standing up and refusing to even give us the official results a week after all the other results are in – even after it was posted outside the poll stations. And arrested your own puppets who ran the elections – demanding a recount. I guess your education system is failing faster than the economy. Your own puppets can’t even add enough votes for you to win. And it looks like you are staging a coup against the government of Zimbabwe. Wait a minute. You are the government of Zimbabwe. Sorry Bob. It is getting a bit much now. Just get the hell out of there for us to start looking after your people. It is obvious you can’t hear their crying and dying. Bye-bye Bob. The sooner the better.

That’s it folks. See ya all next week for more news. Maybe…

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Now, before I start let me remind you that my mother committed suicide by the gun. So I hate guns. Really hate guns. I have never seen anything good come from it. All my experiences have been on the wrong side of guns. People being shot in the streets of South Africa – the rock against the gun. Never a fair game. So I am bias. Live with it.

But I was watching a program on television earlier tonight – all about gun control in Massachusetts. They had the usual angle. How easy it is to buy a gun in neighboring states and bring it into Massachusetts. (Damn, still difficult to spell this states name.) How gun control is out of control. How bad guns are. How guns crimes are rising. Blah… blah… heard it all before. The interesting part came when they had two guys on arguing about the gun laws. Now, before I get into that let me remind you about a few things.

Sweet and short. Americans die from guns. And at a higher rate than anywhere else in the world. And more kids die from it here than anywhere else in the world. The rate of firearm death among kids under the age of 15 is almost 12 times higher than in 25 industrialized countries combined. American children are more at risk from firearms than children in any other industrialized nation. In one year, firearms killed no children in Japan, 19 in Great Britain, 57 in Germany, 109 in France, 153 in Canada, and 5,285 in the United States. So the guns are killing the kids. Okay, the people holding the gun kill kids – then we have to do something about those people with guns I guess.

But it isn’t just an American problem. The USA’s 220 millions guns account for almost 1/3 of all the guns in the world. (What? That’s almost a gun per person – including kids. You guys are trigger/gun happy aren’t you?) American guns don’t just kill Americans – they fuel the illegal gun trade and gun violence world-wide. At least half of the illegal handguns recovered in Canada and 80% of crime guns in Mexico originate from the US. And who said America doesn’t export anything anymore. And why all the moaning and bitching about illegal immigrants when your illegal guns force them here because of all the killing back home? They just don’t know that they can’t run from the gun in Mexico because there are more waiting in the US.

I can go on and on. How guns are bought by terrorist at gun shows – remember Ali Boumelhem? How 1% of gun stores sell the guns used in 57% of crimes. How gun theft is more likely in states that don’t require strong gun storage. How only 2% of federal gun crimes are prosecuted. How the US have a history of gun “incidents” at colleges and universities. Yes. Guns are a problem over here. Anyone who denies this is an idiot. But what solution? Back to my rant for that – that wasn’t it.

This guy from the Gun Owners Action League (more like gun action if you ask me) said that the problem is that gun laws don’t work. Duh. Of course they don’t. Not when most of them are not applied or when the feds don’t prosecute. So what is the answer? The other guy from the Stop Handgun Violence (who is a gun owner himself) believes that a national law is needed. It is just too easy for someone to buy a gun illegally in another state and commit the crime here. Massachusetts might have one of the strongest gun control laws and the second lowest gun crime figure in the US (only Hawaii is better), but we still have a problem. He wants a national law to ensure that private owners still need to do a background check on people who want to buy guns. Yes. All you have to do to buy a gun without any checks is buy it from a private guy – try the dealer on the corner as he should be a private seller.

Makes sense. It won’t stop gun crimes, but it will make it a bit more difficult to sell and buy. At least Ali would have had a more difficult time buying his guns…

And what do you think the guy from the Owners League for Gun Action had to say? Sorry, meant the Gun Owners Action League… He said that all it proves is that the gun laws don’t work. And what is needed is no gun laws at all. Because if they don’t work we should have nothing at all. WTF? Is this guy for real? The law doesn’t stop people from breaking it so we should just get rid of it. Not strengthen it, just get rid of it. Not try something new. No. Just get rid of it. Okay let’s take that to its natural conclusion. Let’s get rid of the laws that doesn’t stop people from breaking them.

Firstly, let’s just get rid of all those bloody parking rules. No more money in the meter. No more fines as we won’t be breaking the laws anymore. Actually, sarcasm doesn’t work here. That’s a pretty good idea. Let’s try something else.

Let’s stick with cars for a bit though. Let’s get rid of all laws stopping us from speeding. Or driving like maniacs. And when we crash – let’s not have any laws that can find us guilty of anything. Why? Because we do find people speeding every single day. We have people driving like idiots. So the law doesn’t work. And according to the People for some Gun Action we should get rid of laws that doesn’t prevent people from breaking that law. Idiots.

Even better. Why not drop the laws that “prevent” people from stealing? People steal don’t they? So the law doesn’t stop people from breaking it – drop the law. Hum, will that stop stealing you thinkg? Idiots.

Or even killing people. People still kill. So obviously the laws that tells people not to kill doesn’t work. Just drop it then if it doesn’t work. Well, it seems to be okay for the Idiots for more Gun Action. Idiots.

And we can go on and on. The argument just doesn’t work buddy. Next up will be the law that should prevent people from flying airplanes into buildings… Idiots. Both of you.

Laws are there to try and put the guidelines there for the average law abiding person. The framework of how we more or less want to organize ourselves before chaos hits. You know – some social meaning to how we want to live in peace and harmony with each other. At least most of the time in any case. To keep the wackos in check. And make it difficult for those who want to break it. People will break laws. We must just make it more difficult for them to do so. And a strong national law will do that. Jeez, these people are allowed to have guns? Really… My kid makes more sense when telling me the latest Spongebob story. And she is 4. And she at least tries to be funny. Now – how to deal with idiots. Go back to get some Gun Action for Dummies – just don’t shoot yourself in the foot again.

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