- GUEST OPINION: The Will for Moose-Wilson
- FEATURE: Letters to the Future
- THE BUZZ: Moose-Wilson Road Hogs
- THEM ON US
- GET OUT: Silencing the Storm
- MUSIC BOX: Resorts Represent, Afroman Returns
- CREATIVE PEAKS: The War on Wild
- WELL, THAT HAPPENED: Murders Up North, There
- WELL, THAT HAPPENED: Six Shooters and Ten Pins
- THE FOODIE FILES: The Bad News About Bacon
REDNECK PERSPECTIVE: Second Amendment foreplay
Beaming with joy, Alice, my Republican lover, stopped by the trailer last week. “What a great year in the Wyoming Legislature,” she announced. “Almost all the gun bills passed!”
Damn, I thought. I had only seen Alice happy once in my life when she heard Air Force One had crashed, killing Obama and his family. It turned out just to be an Internet joke. She was depressed for a week afterwards. For Alice, anger is an aphrodisiac, joy a lust kill. Thankfully she is a Republican, always angry, always ready. Except for now. I needed to get her pissed. Thankfully she is a Republican, easily pissed.
“While I applaud the Wyoming Legislature for passing a law allowing the use of silencers for hunters,” I began, “I don’t feel the law has gone far enough. We can shoot clip after clip at a herd of elk across a canyon without spooking them, but we have no way to know where the bullets are hitting. Our so-called gun-friendly legislature needs to pass laws legalizing tracer rounds for hunting.”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’ll bet Obama had something to do with that not even being brought up.”
“Most likely,” I nodded. “And another thing – the Second Amendment does not even mention guns. It mentions ‘arms,’ meaning any weaponry. Rocket-propelled grenades with tandem-charged warheads would be great for elk hunting. Imagine, one shot and you could fill the freezers of an entire trailer park. But there was no movement to allow RPGs for sporting pursuits.”
“Damn liberals!” she fumed. That was more like it. But since it had been a while since I had seen Alice, I wanted to take advantage of the moment. I decided to push her off the deep end. I could (maybe) handle it.
“Of course if America is safer with high capacity magazine assault rifles in the hands of the population, then what would really make us safe is the state-financed distribution of FIM-92 Stinger portable infrared homing surface-to-air missiles to the entire Wyoming population. It is an arm, its private ownership guaranteed by the Second Amendment. We could shoot down airplanes, helicopters, even jets. Imagine the advantages in duck hunting! Plus, private ownership of Stinger missiles in Wyoming would show them liberal bastards!” Showing them liberal bastards seems to be the driving force in Wyoming legislation recently, which is a good thing. Ever try to read a highway or energy bill? Bor-ing.”
“Everyone in Wyoming should have at least one Stinger missile,” Alice exclaimed. “It’s a right! I am so angry now. I’m calling Marti Halverson, she will know what to do!”
I cringed. “Maybe not, Marti,” I said. “She might go overboard and hand out nuclear devices.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Alice demanded. “Nukes are arms too, guaranteed by the Second Amendment.”
I finally had Alice where I wanted her but I was concerned I didn’t have enough room in my fridge to hold the Budweiser needed to outwait a nuclear winter should there be an accidental discharge. But as Alice always wears black lace underneath, I figured I’d take my chances. Maybe I could find a used fridge in the JH Weekly classifieds.